


A Valentine Promise

by brimstonegold, virtualpersonal



Series: The Best Gift Of All Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Curtain Fic, Dean is an adoptive dad, Domestic, Domestic Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Family, Fluff, Hunter Dean, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Hunter Sam, Romance, Sam is a Dad, Schmoop, Sexy Times, Valentines, prior domestic violence, sam and dean are not brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 01:53:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2755190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brimstonegold/pseuds/brimstonegold, https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a timestamp or short follow up to our Gift!Verse Christmas story -- The Best Gift Of All -- and takes place almost two months after Dean took Sam and Emily in and protected them from Sam's abusive Ex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://tinypic.com?ref=2h5o4k2)   
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> Co-written with Brimstonegold

To Sam, it felt like two months had gone by in the blink of an eye. Sometimes he still worried that he was dreaming this life. That he and Emily were still on the run, or worse, under Dex's control and that this beautiful dream of a normal life with a man in whose arms he felt safe and who loved his child as much as Sam did, would disappear with the morning light. Or with the sharp pain from a booted foot kicking him in the back. He wondered if he'd ever forget the years of abuse or of fearing for Emily. And what about Em? Would she forget and put it behind her? God he hoped so.

They'd moved Emily upstairs, to the guest bedroom down the hall from their own bedroom. One day, when she was at after school day care, he and Dean had re-done the room and brought in some bits of new furniture. After dinner, Sam had a little sternly told her to go upstairs and clean up the crayons she'd left all over her floor in the morning. She'd been surprised by his tone, looked at Dean, then left to do as her dad said. He and Dean had discretely followed her upstairs and seen how she stopped in the middle of the bedroom, her mouth open as she took in the new white furniture, the frilly pink and white bed covers and the single wall painted pink. Dean had snapped a picture of her with both hands over her mouth, then she'd turned and run to them, wrapping her arms around one of Sam’s legs and one of Dean’s in a tight hug. 

To this day, Dean pretended the room was 'too girly' and kept noting he'd strategically placed some brown tones in the room to balance it off. Never mind that the princess-y netting over the bed was purely his idea and that the brown rugs and the lettering of her name in a picture frame on the wall were all dotted by pink accents in the form of ribbons or butterflies. 

Sam worked three days a week giving massages at the salon. On those days, he dropped Emily off at kindergarten on his way to work. It was a half day program after which she was taken to Miss Lacey's with some of the other children Lacey watched. Then either he or Dean would get Emily, depending on whether Sam got off early or needed to run errands like grocery shopping. On his days off, Emily still went to day care but he'd pick her up in the mid-afternoon.

Dean's physical therapy sessions were helping a lot. He still limped when the weather was bitterly cold and he'd had a long day of standing, especially when he was called out late at night to tow cars that were stuck in the surrounding areas, but his limp was a lot less pronounced. He gave Dean nightly massages, though often, he was dragged down onto the bed for 'another kind of therapy' before he was anywhere near done. Not that he was complaining.

They'd fallen into a nice routine. Sam didn't think he needed anything else, a single thing more, to make him happy. 

Well, there was one _small_ thing. He couldn't complain about the sex they were having. It was all sorts of great. Dean was a very caring and thoughtful lover and Sam had lost most of his anxieties coming from living with Dexter. The problem, though, was that for some reason, they'd gone six straight days of what Dean called 'getting cock-blocked.' Their routine of getting regular sex had been interrupted by one thing or another until neither one of them thought it was funny anymore.

Sam had jokingly asked whether there might be something cursed in the box of artifacts some hunter named Rufus had dropped off. Instead of laughing it off, Dean had run down to the basement like he was on fire and dug through the box, stirring the stuff in it with some long tool. Sam's laughter hadn't been appreciated. Not at all. Then again, getting backed up against the steel door of the safe room was much appreciated by Sam. They'd kissed, and groped and started to undress when a God-damned shelf fell off the wall for no reason. Bullets and weapons were scattered all over the floor and had to be picked up and put away before Emily came home.

Yeah... that had been three days ago. It had been funnier then.

Wearing several shirts, a heavy jacket and a scarf, Sam sat on the swing on the porch, nursing a cup of hot coffee in his hands. Dean had called and said he was on his way back and it was only two in the afternoon. That meant they'd have a few hours to themselves to reverse this damned curse or whatever it was that kept foiling their plans. Sam was lying in wait out here to be sure Dean didn't take it into his head to go into one of the garage bays for some reason and then find something to keep him busy. No way. This dry spell was gonna break, and it was gonna break now... today.

*  
Dean had to admit he was getting damned cranky. Before Sam and The Imp had come into his life, he had grown quite accustomed to going without sex. Accustomed to going to bed tense and achy, and often waking up the same way. Sam was spoiling him in more ways than he could count. Cooking for him half the time, buying one of those coffee machines with a timer so when Dean got up in the morning his coffee was waiting on him whether Sam was up or not, doing laundry, the dishes, and organizing and cleaning the house. The physical therapy in the morning and massages at night, which usually ended in really really good sex, it all made him feel better, inside and out. He'd pretty much told Sam that Sam could decorate the house however he wanted and the house no longer felt so much like Bobby's house as their own _home._ But now, it had almost been a week since they'd had sex and he was cranky enough some of his customers even commented on it.

At the moment, he was happily tapping his fingers on the wheel of the tow truck because Emily wouldn't be home for a bit yet, he'd picked up a classic car junker that he knew he was going to be able to rebuild and sell for a damned fine profit, and was on his way home. Most importantly, Sam was home. When he got home he was gonna back the junker into one of the garage bays, unhook it, then go inside and attack his boyfriend, and they were gonna have a good couple of hours of uninterrupted sex.

That was the plan anyhow until he heard the tell-tale *whump* followed by a *thud-thud-thud-thud* of a flat tire. He guided the tow truck off the side of the road swearing the entire time. He got out and looked. Front right tire had blown. He hung his head. By the time he got the junker off the hook, the tow truck jacked up, tire changed, the junker hooked back up, and then made it home, it would be time to get Emily. Sighing, he pulled out his phone and called Sam, letting him know he was gonna be late. 

*

Sam had just finished setting the table when Emily suddenly shot off the couch and gave a loud, gleeful shout. "Mr. Dean's home!"  
"Emily..." Sam made a face as she ran to the door and threw it open. Damn, she had sharp ears. He followed her, stopping at the coat rack to grab her coat and joining her on the porch. "It's freezing out here. You need to put something on," he told her, like he seemed to have to so often. They both had their eyes on the tow truck backing up to one of the garage bays.

"It's not as pretty as the Impala. Or magical," she said, letting Sam button her coat up.

"Oh yeah? How do you know it's not magical on the inside?"

"We'll ask Mr. Dean," she said in a way that told Sam that on matters having to deal with cars, Dean was _the authority._

"Hang on." He grabbed her coat as she prepared to run down the stairs, then let her only after Dean had stepped out of the truck. Running his hand through his hair, he gave a soft laugh as he watched Emily scamper across the yard, sinking in the snow with every step, only to attack Dean with hugs and questions, grabbing onto him and making it impossible for him to unhitch the car for a few minutes until he gave her some satisfactory answers and put her to work on some imaginary task. A few minutes later, Dean opened the door of the classic vehicle, let her scramble inside, and then was backing it into the garage. 

When the pair emerged, Dean was holding Emily's hand and was giving grunts of agreement to whatever she was blabbering about. 

Dean gave Sam a small eye roll as he approached, but was smiling. Emily always seemed to make him smile. Yeah, she got into things occasionally, but it was extremely rare any real discipline was required. Usually a warning "Emilyyy" from Sam was sufficient. She still was a little jumpy if Dean swore a little too loudly and suddenly, and she had bad dreams sometimes. He lifted her up into his arms as they reached the stairs and carried her inside, her still going on about magic cars that had somehow led to a new version of Jack and the Beanstalk combined with Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang.

"You cooking or am I?" Dean asked tiredly. His leg was aching a bit. Maybe he'd see if he could get Sam to give him a massage before dinner. He wanted a beer and a pain pill right now. Setting Emily down, he began to unbutton her coat. 

"It's almost ready. Rumsfeld--!" Sam's voice rose an octave as the dog ran inside and shook the snow off all over the floor.  
Emily giggled, eying the towel uselessly hanging next to the door. "He doesn't like being dried off."

"Clearly," Sam huffed, smacking Dean's ass lightly. "I'll get that," he said. "There's some hot coffee in the kitchen if you want to warm up."

"You're a saint, as always," Dean said straightening up and walking out to the kitchen a little stiffly. Coffee sounded good, better than beer at the moment because he was cold to the bone. He lifted the lid to the pot on the stove. Chili. "There better not be any broccoli in this chili!" Dean called back. Damn it smelled good. He stirred it, put the lid back on, and then filled up a mug of coffee. He could smell the cornbread in the oven and his stomach growled.

"What can I do to help?" he asked when he came back to the doorway, looking in on the two. He and Sam had been working out together and though Sam had already been gorgeous, he had certainly put on a bit more muscle and Dean definitely approved.

"We're good," Sam said, watching Emily drag Rumsfeld near the fire to dry off, then turned to Dean. Following the guy's gaze, Sam looked down and saw his tee shirt had been pulled up and had the answer to his question about the reason behind the heat in Dean's eyes. A flush warmed his face. "Flat tire." He shook his head in disbelief and joined Dean in the doorway to the kitchen. "You sore?" he asked, stepping closer and putting a hand on Dean's hip.  
"Ah, those front tires are old. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, but I swear I didn't see anything in the road." Dean wrapped an arm around Sam's waist and pulled him closer. "Yeah, a little. Breaking the lug nuts loose was a bitch. Maybe after dinner, I could get use of those magic hands of yours?" he asked, leaning in closer to Sam. He slanted his mouth over Sam's and slipped his tongue inside.

"Mmm," Sam's sound of agreement turned into a soft moan as he tangled his tongue with Dean's and pressed against him, running his hand from Dean's hip to his ass and pulling him closer. God how he loved the way Dean kissed him, how he held him and could be both rough and gentle at the same time. Feeling like he was about to ignite, Sam pushed Dean into the kitchen, away from little prying eyes. Deepening the kiss and making it impossible for Dean to pull away until they were both out of breath, Sam swept his mouth across Dean's jaw and spoke in his ear. "Turn your phones off tonight. Please." His plea was accompanied by the press of his hardening cock against Dean's hip. "Been too long."

"No argument here. Besides, shouldn't make a run until, you know, I get two new front tires, right?" Dean murmured into his ear. He nuzzled Sam's neck and groaned softly, sucking on it. His own cock was ready and raring to go. "Let me put my coffee down," he said, walking Sam closer to the table.  
As soon as he set his coffee down he wrapped his other arm around Sam and ran his hands down Sam's ass. "Tonight, at least half the night. I wanna kiss every inch of you," he said pressing his groin against his lover.

"I'd like that," Sam answered breathlessly. He took another step back and half-sat on the edge of the table, Dean standing between his legs and grinding against him. His gaze dropped to Dean's mouth and that was all it took. Dean was kissing him again, his firm lips moving over Sam's, his tongue delving in and out of his mouth, making Sam think of what their night would be like. Dropping his hands onto the table, he leaned back as Dean leaned in over him. "No... No answering hunters' questions... not tonight," Sam said. "No inconvenient lightning bolts hitting the house... no fires, other than _ours_." He moaned again as Dean answered him with more kisses. 

"Yes sir," Dean agreed. "Nothing but you and me. No distractions. No--" Dean inhaled. "No cornbread unless you get it out before it burns," Dean said and straightened up. They couldn't get going too much, not with the little one in the other room, and neither of them needed another case of blue balls anyhow. He growled softly, not wanting to stop. "Tonight," he said, as much of a promise to Sam as to himself.

Sam cursed softly under his breath and let Dean pull him up. He couldn't help kissing Dean one more time though, and naturally the dog and Emily chose that moment to bound inside. Moving his hands quickly, grasping Dean's shoulder with one hand and hip with the other, Sam twisted and pressed his hip and thigh into Dean's just right. A cracking of bones sounded, as well as Dean's oaths that never failed to amuse him. "There... feel better?" he asked, patting Dean on the shoulder and pulling away, hoping Emily wouldn't comment on his flushed state or uneven breathing.  
"Daddy's tricky. Does it feel better now?" Emily gravely asked Dean, coming up to him. 

"Some of it does," Dean agreed, quickly turning to get to the oven, wanting to hide his tenting jeans from Emily. "I'm sure he'll fix the rest tonight," he said. "Why don't you get the butter out for the table, honey?"  
This time it was Sam turning away from her as she walked toward him. Tossing Dean a glare, he grabbed a trivet and marched out, taking the chili with him and placing it on the dinner table. Taking a few deep calming breaths, he returned and took the butter from Emily and was about to help Dean, but when their eyes met, he changed his mind. Distance. For now, a little distance was for the best. 

A few minutes later, they were sitting at the table and Dean was serving the food. When their eyes met briefly, they both looked away and then hardly touched as they passed the plates to each other. Sam didn't think there was any obvious tension, not until Emily spoke up.

"Are you mad at my daddy?" she asked Dean, her eyes losing a little of their sparkle. 

"Em?" Sam put his hand on hers but before he could reassure her, she continued.

"... is it because he cracked you too hard?" She moved her hand so it was curled around Sam's thumb, holding it tight as she nervously waited for Dean's answer.

Dean wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. That a little sexual tension between him and his lover brought such concern and worry into Emily's face, though she had no idea of the reason, made his heart clench. He knew what was happening in that brain of hers. Daddy's boyfriend is upset. Next would come yelling and hitting or worse. That was the way things happened in her old world.  
Getting to his feet Dean walked around to Sam, put two fingers under his jaw, and lifted his face so their eyes met. He heard Emily's frightened inhale. "No, absolutely not." 

He gently pressed his lips to Sam's, then turned to Emily and squatted down, kissing her lightly on the cheek. "Sam and I, we've had kind of a rough week. Falling shelves, flat tires, dropped jars, all sorts of little things like that. Life sometimes makes you...grumpy. We're not grumpy at each other, or at you, even if maybe it kind of looks like we are. Okay, doll?"

She let out a breath and nodded slowly. "It wasn't daddy's fault. It was an accident." Her eyes shot to Sam and back to Dean.

Sam's heart ached. How long would it take for her to believe he wouldn't catch trouble for everything that went wrong? For jars breaking and tires busting? "Dean knows that Em." Once again, he took her hand in his and squeezed. "And even if it wasn't an accident, if it was my fault or if one of us was mad at the other, it would be alright. What do we do when we're mad at someone?"  
"Use our words," she answered.

"Yes. We'd use our words, talk about it and work it out, okay?" He stroked Dean's face and rested his hand on his shoulder. "Dean loves us. He would never _hurt_ us, either one of us, okay?"

"Only the bad guys," she said. "Like Dex."

"Only the bad guys," Sam agreed, noticing she'd stopped calling Dex her 'papa.'

She emulated Sam's gesture, touching the side of Dean's face and giving him a smile. "You can be grumpy."  
Dean couldn't help it. That innocent sweet smile, childish simplicity and understanding, and the oh-so-tender touch, made him gather the girl in his arms. "Thanks, Em." He felt her small arms wrap around him, hugging him back and kissed her head. "You both spoil me."

Releasing her, he touched his finger to her nose. "Now eat your dinner before it gets cold. I'll try to be less grumpy. Your daddy and I both will try to be less grumpy."

Dean smiled at her giggle and pushed himself back up, wincing, and walked back to his chair to settle down for dinner. He reached across and took hold of Sam's hand and squeezed, his eyes telling Sam they'd have to both be more careful and cool it. A few days without sex shouldn't kill them and hopefully that would be rectified tonight.

Giving Dean a nod of thanks, Sam let go of his hand and picked up his fork. " _I'm_ not grumpy."

"No, Mr. Dean is Grumpy. You're Doc. And I'm Sleepy," she announced before stuffing her mouth with a little too much food.

"You're sleepy... oh, that's good."

"Not really. Not yet," she answered, barely chewing before swallowing her food. 

_Damn._ Sam didn't say it aloud but met Dean's gaze and gave a pained smile.

After dinner, Dean cleared the table and Sam washed up. Emily watched some TV. and then Sam took her up for her bath. It was a school night so he put her to bed and read her a story. When he was mid-way through it, he sensed Dean's presence and looked up to see him in the doorway, watching them. By the time he finished, Dean had gone back downstairs and Emily's eyes were closing. He gave her a kiss and got up.

"Daddy, is Rummy here?"  
"Rummy's got his own bed. G'night Em." Shaking his head, Sam pulled the door mostly shut. It wasn't as if he didn't know that most nights Rummy came to her room and slept on the rug, but if he acknowledged that, he was pretty sure they'd have the dog on the bed next.

*

When he got downstairs, Dean was sitting in front of the TV. and going through a stack of mail. 

"You want a drink?" Sam asked. Sensing Dean's nod was for something stronger than beer, he returned with two shots of whiskey. Handing one to Dean, he sat next to him and grabbed the remote. "Was that a Mustang you dragged into the garage? I'm sure I'll be quizzed on my lack of car knowledge as soon as Em gets the details from you," he said, switching the channels.  
"Yeah, a 1964 and a half Mustang," Dean said opening one of the letters. He looked up at Sam who was giving him something of a skeptical look. "What? That's what they call them. Precursor to the 1965 Mustang Shelby. Only about 120K of them made. With it being a convertible and having the strongest engine that was put into it, a 4-barrel, 289 V-8, she's gonna be sweet when I get her restored. The frame's in damned good shape, and the engine block is original, making her worth more. She'll take a lot of work, but she'll be a honey of a ride when I get done with her, and I should be able to sell her for a good chunk of change." His eyes widened a bit then he waved a check he pulled out from the envelope. "Sorry, didn't see this was for you. Dude, serious payday here." He handed Sam an insurance company check. "Looks like Dex had a life insurance policy and you’re the beneficiary."

Sam had already reached for it but the check dropped from his nerveless fingers. A maelstrom of emotions exploded within him. Anger, surprise, guilt. Mostly, he didn't want to have to deal with anything related to that man ever again. "I don't want it." Without checking the sum, he downed his drink and got up to get some more from the cabinet next to the kitchen. "Burn it."

"You could put it into a college fund for Em," Dean suggested hesitantly. "Or give it to a battered spouse shelter or something. Seems a shame that something good doesn't come out of it instead of lining some life insurance CEO's pocket with a bonus." Dean understood Sam's reaction and even though they were tight on money, he didn't blame Sam for not wanting it. He'd fielded the sheriff's call and actually knew about the insurance claim, since the insurance folks had contacted the sheriff trying to track Sam down. Dean had given her the go ahead to have the insurance company send it to the police station and just have them forward it to Sam from there. Dean hadn't had any idea how much it was for until just now. 

_..."Daddy!"  
He could hear the hesitant foots steps coming down the hall. "Go back to bed Emily. I ... I just tripped," Sam forced the words out. He waited a few seconds, taking in some heavy breaths, then started to push up off the stone coffee table he'd landed on top of. A soft groan left him as he slid off it, and sat on the floor looking up at Dexter who was across the room. "Dex..."_

_"Don't you fucking say another word. You think you have it bad?"_

_"She's sleeping, please." He looked down at the floor, at the droplets of blood splattering it. "Please."_

_"I don't give a fuck. Who pays for this house, this roof? The furniture, groceries, your clothes? I own you. As long as you live in this house, I own you Sammy boy, you got that. You don't like it... get the fuck out. I don't need you to take care of my daughter." He stormed over to a corner table and picked up a box of tissues and threw it at Sam. "Get your ass cleaned up and stop bleeding all over my floor. We're having company."_

_Gripping the box, Sam stood up._

_"I got some guys coming over on Saturday too. Better make sure we don't run out of liquor again." Pulling a wad of cash out of his pocket, Dexter started to peel off a bunch of hundreds._

_The cash smacked Sam in the face. Sam bent down again, to pick up the scattered bills._

_"And buy yourself something pretty with the change...."_

The bottle slipped from Sam's hand and shattered on the floor as the memories of that day reared up in his mind. He stared down at the broken glass and liquid for a long moment, sure there ought to be some blood on the floor.

Dean was at Sam's side immediately, pulling Sam into his arms. "I'll burn it. I'm sorry. I'll send the letter back, tell 'em you don't want it and not to send you anything else. Let's put a movie in and I'll get the other bottle of whiskey out and get this cleaned up. How's that sound, Lover?" He ran his hand in soothing circles on Sam's back, kicking himself the whole time.

Burying his face in Dean's neck, Sam tried to get the images completely out of his mind. "He.. he used to give me money. Throw it at me. Think it made everything okay. Said I ... we were lucky." He gave a bitter laugh and ended with a sob. "I never used any of it on me or on her. Not a dime. Now he gets the last fucking word on it with this? Dean, I..." He was shaking slightly, clinging to Dean and taking in deep breaths. His life was different now, with Dean. 

Dean was silent, just holding Sam and trying to give him what comfort he could. Finally he offered softly, "Maybe... maybe this shows you there was a time he really cared about you, Sam. I mean, the Dex you've told me about, he wouldn't care what happened to you if he died, you or Emily. This had to have been something he took out a long time ago. You told me once that in the very beginning he was different. This had to have been from the Dex you first met and fell in love with. I'm not saying keep it. I'm not saying throw it away. It's not my choice to make. He totally fucked up your life, and screwed up Emily's too. Maybe this money could help fix some of that somehow. But I think you shouldn't make a snap decision. Take a few days or a week. I'm behind you whatever you decide, but Sammy...two hundred and fifty thousand _would_ put Em through college."

The amount stunned Sam even though the thought of using it went against his grain and made his skin crawl. He hadn't been able to make many stands against Dexter because the guy held all the cards, the biggest and only important one having been Emily, but one stand he had made was paying for his own things. And Emily's, though that had been more because Dex had refused to help Em's mother with money and Sam had been the one to do it. It was a holdover from back then. "Maybe. Maybe for her... I just, I don't want to think about it right now." He sought out Dean's mouth and kissed him. "Sorry. I didn't meant to, to be like this. I'll take that drink," he said, pulling away.  
Licking his lips, eyes locked with Dean's, he tried to explain. "I just want that part of my life to be ... you know, over. Done with. And then there's the constant reminders, like Emily at dinner. Then this. Makes me wonder what's coming tomorrow and when can I really put it behind me. And there's this... this pride thing going on," he said, waving his hand. "I know it's stupid, but it was the only way I really won anything... won a fight, just by refusing to take anything from him. I'm not making sense."

"Life insurance money, that's kind of final," Dean joked a little weakly. "And you're making perfect sense. I've been there done that, sorta. Last thing I wanted was to take Bobby's life insurance money. It felt dirty and I felt guilty as hell about his death anyway, and then to _benefit_ from Bobby dying." He shook his head. "Didn't sit right with me. I get your sitch is way the hell different, but I understand wanting to be done with all that. I do. It's only been a little over a month. There are going to be reminders for a while yet, but I'll be here to help you with 'em, help you through 'em. I'll put the letter and the check in the desk, okay? You've probably got like half a year to decide what you wanna do about it. ...Just, don't let it gnaw at you all that time and make sure whatever you decide you're not gonna dwell on it or regret it later." Dean gave Sam another kiss. "Now go sit your butt on that couch. I'll get you a double and then join you in a minute. Figure out what you wanna watch." Dean smacked Sam lightly on the ass and pushed him toward the couch.

Giving a surprised look and automatically taking a small step away from the ass pat, he shook his head and made a small sound of amusement. The way Dean was looking at him, he knew he wasn't going to be allowed to clean up his own mess so he did as Dean asked, stopping to toss a couple of extra logs onto the fire before sitting down and grabbing the remote. On the couch, he flipped though channels and, not finding anything, stopped on the history channel. He knew Dean would be able to find something more to his taste when he joined him. "You know, there's a classic car thing at some fair in Pierre. That's not so far. Do you want to take the Impala? You've worked so damned hard on the car and it’ll be a nice chance to take it on a long drive long drive. We could take a picnic basket and thick blankets. I think Em would like that too. Whatcha think?  
Dean got the glass all swept up, then sopped up the whiskey with a towel, and wiped the spot down with some Lysol. He was pouring them both their whiskey when Sam made the suggestion. "That's in that covered coliseum, the fair thing, right? Though I think the classic car thing is outside. Sure, if the weather doesn't threaten to turn on us."

Dean handed Sam his whiskey, then picked up the check and letter and put it down in the desk before returning to the couch. He settled down beside Sam and put his arm over his shoulder, pulling him comfortably close. "Nothing on?" Dean asked, seeing the history channel. That was Sam's stopping place when he couldn't find anything worthwhile. Dean accepted the remote and surfed through some channels until he settled on a really bad B-grade sci-fi horror movie dealing with vampire bats. "It's this or that sappy romantic movie. Your call. Or we can watch one of Em's cartoon flicks," he chuckled, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

"It's fine." Taking a sip, Sam leaned into Dean and got comfortable. "If you promise me mocking running commentary on how they're doing it wrong," he gave a smile and looked into Dean's face. "Then I can legitimately call this a training vid or something." Mostly, he liked watching Dean's comical expressions and hearing his exclamations on what the characters should _really_ be doing. It was guaranteed comedy for Sam and he could use a laugh. 

"Mystery Science Theater it is," Dean said, having fully planned on making fun of it before Sam even asked. He didn't waste any time ragging on everything from the pathetic car that was sure not to start, to the too long hair that was just begging to get grabbed, to the group splitting up and all the potential weapons and shielding that got ignored along the way.

He had Sam alternately grinning and laughing and jumping in to add his own mocking comments now and again. "You know, I could have gone my entire life without having to learn about 'dead man's blood,'" Sam said, making a face. "No," he raised his hand to prevent Dean from speaking, "I _really_ don't need to know _how_ you go about getting it, either." Setting his now empty glass down onto the coffee table and leaning back again, he angled his body so his leg was over Dean's lap and he could straddle him at any moment. "Know what I do need you to do? Gimme some of that kissing you promised." As his gaze dropped to Dean's lips, he felt his own burn.  
"Kissing? I promised you kissing? Really?" Dean asked, eyeing Sam suspiciously. "I dunno. You might try to take advantage of me." He licked his lips and ran his hand lightly along Sam's leg, leaning closer to him. "So where, exactly, do you want kissed?" He inhaled his lover's scent. "Damn, I love how you smell," he said softly as he gave feather-light kisses to Sam's lips and jaw line.

"Right here," Dean said, kissing the side of Sam's neck, "this is prime real estate for a vampire." He sucked gently on the skin, then gave a sharp nip before sucking hard and licking across it once he'd left the mark he had wanted. "Mmm, that's gonna be a nice dark one." He grinned at Sam, then swooped in and took Sam's mouth, his tongue prodding and pleading for entrance, slipping hungrily inside once Sam let him in. 

Tipping his head back slightly, Sam tangled his tongue with Dean's, moaning softly as Dean teased him. Wanting more, he pushed up and straddled Dean's thighs, keeping most of his weight on his own knees. "You can play vampire anytime you want. Feel free to suck..." Laughing softly, he kissed Dean's lips, then pulled back and looked into his eyes. "I love you." Before Dean could answer him, he brought his mouth down over Dean's in a hard, desperate kiss that had been building for days. His hand slipped behind Dean's head, holding him in place as he deepened the kiss and took what he needed, what they both needed.  
Dean wrapped his arms around Sam and pulled him close as he shifted his legs so his knees were bent and his feet flat on the coffee table. Dean moaned in approval of the weight on his groin. Sliding one hand down Sam's back side, he dipped his fingers below Sam's waistband, rubbing at the top of his lover's crack. He was most definitely enjoying Sam kissing the fucking daylights out of him and let Sam know it.

He'd been trying to keep his weight off Dean but Dean made it impossible and there was no way he was bringing up hip pain right now, not like Dean would listen anyway. Dean's fingers skimming over his bare flesh sent a jolt of heat through Sam and had him wriggling his ass and bringing it into firmer contact with Dean's noticeable erection. He ran his hand down Dean's chest, still holding his head in place as he kissed him, weaving his tongue in and out of his lover's mouth. His heart started to pound harder, his breaths came harsher, and his mind filled with images of being skin to skin with Dean. Groaning, he broke the kiss and peeled Dean's over-shirt off, waiting just a second for him to lean forward so he could get it off. His hands moved under Dean's tee and he sucked in his breath as he ran his hands over rippling muscles. Abruptly he started to tug the damned shirt up and over Dean's head.  
Dean chuckled as Sam yanked at his shirt. "Dude, easy," he said, but Sam gave him a look that said he was going to be anything but easy on him. "No ripping the shirt, Tiger," Dean said and leaned forward a little, letting Sam pull the shirt off of him. As soon as his shirt was off, he took hold of the hem of Sam's sweater and pulled it over Sam's head.

"Much better," Dean murmured, running his hands over the warm skin of Sam's back, thrusting his hips up a little as Sam wriggled over him again. His head fell back and he groaned in approval.

"Much, much," Sam agreed, kissing Dean's throat and muttering about how long he'd waited for this. His hand roamed over Dean's chest, his thumb tweaking and playing with Dean's nipple. The instant he felt it pebble, he slipped back as far as Dean's knees would allow and, lowering his head, licked around it in ever smaller circles. "Want you." He sucked on Dean's nipple, then licked it again to soothe away any pain. "Damn... want you so much," he said again, kissing his way back up and arching against him. They were skin to skin and some of the wetness he'd left on Dean's chest rubbed off on him. It made him want to know if Dean's hard cock was already leaking, and made him want to touch him. Pushing one hand between them, he started to work Dean's button.  
"Want you more," Dean said, his eyes full of heat. The phone began ringing just as Sam popped open Dean's button. "Answering machine will get it," Dean said, rubbing his hands up and down Sam's muscular arms. He straightened his knees out a bit so Sam could scoot back some. "Damn you're gorgeous when you're horny." 

"Only when I'm horny?" he huffed, looking down and used both hands to get Dean's zipper open. "This... this trumps whoever is calling," he said, stroking Dean once over the open jeans, then pushing his hand under his shorts and wrapping his fingers around his cock. He started to jack him slowly, leaning in to claim another kiss and swallow Dean's moan. Maybe they ought to stay down here, he thought. He had the feeling they were gonna be very noisy. Hearing a male voice identifying the speaker by name, he knew it wasn't a call for towing services. Still, whoever it was could call back. Deepening the kiss and squeezing Dean's cock as he stroked, Sam gave his lover plenty of incentive to ignore the call.  
Dean grinned broadly at Sam's response, but agreed whole-heartedly about their activities winning out over the call. "Nghh, oh fuck, Sammy," he groaned when Sam wrapped his hand around his hard member. Dean hungrily sucked Sam's tongue into his mouth and began tangling with it. He heard the voice and his upstairs brain struggled to get enough blood to put a name to the voice. Caleb. It was Caleb. _...rawhead...two hours from your place...I'm with the kids...can't get 'em out...trapped...call me...God, please be home...Dean? Pick up Goddammit...._

Dean's eyes snapped open and he pulled Sam's hand off his cock, groaning and cursing. His gaze locked with Sam's. "I gotta..." he said helplessly.  
"Wha-?" Sam looked back at him in shock, a protest hot on his lips until he heard the speaker begging for help. Swallowing down all of his wants, he immediately rolled off Dean's lap. Blowing out a few breaths and trying to calm his body which was still screaming to be touched, he cleared his throat. "Need any help packing your gear?" He got up and couldn't help swearing. "Sorry it's... Do you want a thermos of coffee?"

Dean looked down at his open pants. He wished he had time for Sam to 'pack his gear' alright. "Coffee, yeah. And microwave some hot chocolate to put in the other thermos." _Hope like hell I get to offer it to the kids._ Dean gave a nod. "Then get my black pack out of the basement. It's got the stun guns." Dean stood up and closed his pants. He quickly got into his boots, groaning as he leaned over, his erection trapped uncomfortably in his pants. Dean called Caleb back on his cell phone as he headed upstairs.

"Dude, I'll be on the road in ten. Tell me where you are and what you've got," he said, and listened to Caleb's answers. He was still listening to Caleb when he paused at Emily's door and looked in on her. He walked in and planted a soft kiss on her head and pulled up the covers a bit more around her. Stepping over Rumsfeld he walked into his room and grabbed a thermal shirt and some warm overshirts. After ending the call with Caleb, he headed downstairs and pulled his shirts on.  
His black pack was sitting on the dining room table. Opening it, he did a rapid inventory. He saw Sam had laid a couple of thick blankets by the pack, along with his coat. "I'm gonna start the car, get the ice melting off the windshields. Be right back in," he called to Sam, pulling on his coat and grabbing the blankets and pack.

As soon as he had the thermoses packed and had tossed some of Emily's snacks into a bag, Sam walked out to see Dean shutting the trunk of the Impala. Once Dean got in, he passed the bag over and gave him a separate traveling cup of hot coffee. "Come back to us safe," he said, quickly kissing Dean, stepping away and closing the door. Giving him a wave, Sam ran back inside, shivering from the cold. At least it had cooled off his lust, there was that. From the door, he waited until the tail lights disappeared, then locked up.

* * *

Dean was exhausted by the time he got back home. It had been two hours there, driving at high speeds whenever the roads permitted it. Then he had to nail the rawhead, and rawheads didn't go down easy. Once Caleb could get out, the two of them managed to put the monster down, but Dean still took a couple blows in the process. He left the hot chocolate with Caleb and the three kids and headed back home as fast as he could. It felt good, hunting, helping, saving those kids, but he had forgotten how bone tired it could make him. It was weird too, now that he had a home and family, the desire to hunt was lessened...some. He wondered if as time passed and he grew more secure in having Sam and Em waiting on him, that he would feel more comfortable trying to hunt again, or less so. The fact that by the time he pulled in the drive his hip was hurting him reminded him that even though the therapy with Sam had been doing wonders for him, he was still a long way off from being the hunter he had once been. 

He parked the Impala out front, reminding himself to wash off the salt the next day. The lights were out except for the living room light Sam had left on low for him. He walked in, Rumsfeld right at the door until he saw it was Dean. The dog gave a soft "whuff" then trotted back up the stairs to Emily's room. Dean saw that the living room was empty so he divested himself of his coat and boots and, after shutting off the light, climbed the stairs up to his own bedroom. Sam was snoring softly.  
Pulling off his clothes and tossing them aside, he crawled under the covers. He was chilled and rolled up next to Sam, letting Sam's body heat warm him.

A sound of protest left Sam's lips as he felt something cool against his back, but when he felt an arm close around his waist, he smiled and started coming awake. "Dean." It took another half a minute before he rolled over and faced Dean. "Everything go okay?" His hand drifted along Dean's side, to his hip, then moved on. "Not hurt?"  
"Three kids are going home to their parents and a rawhead is crispy-fried. I got tossed once or twice, but it's nothing." Dean leaned in and began kissing Sam, running his hand along Sam's side. He really wanted to pick up where they'd left off. He might be tired, but for a little Sammy-loving, he'd gladly stay awake.

"Mmm." Sam broke the kiss. "You hurting? Need some Tylenol or..." He sucked his breath in when he felt Dean's touches turn into suggestive caresses. "Dean..." this time, his voice took on a plaintive, husky tone. Bringing his mouth back to Dean's, he opened for him, moaning again when Dean's tongue was inside his mouth. So good, it felt so good when Dean kissed him like this. He ran his hand down Dean's back and under his shorts, caressing his ass, lightly tickling him with his fingertips as he leaned in and pressed his groin against Dean's. Blood surged to his cock and soon this wasn't enough and he was tugging on Dean, pulling on him to roll over on top of him.

Dean toyed playfully with Sam's tongue for a minute, breaking the kiss only when Sam was pulling at him. He slid his leg in between Sam's as he moved on top of him and began kissing along Sam's jaw and down to his neck, groaning with need as his own cock grew hard. "Mmm, Sammy, love you," Dean murmured between kisses and licks and nips of Sam's flesh. He rubbed his cock slowly against Sam's hip.

"I know." Sam smiled sleepily in the dark. He didn't hear it often, but he knew it in his heart and saw it in all of Dean's actions. And when Dean put it to words, it was always very special. "Cause I'm gorgeous when I'm horny..." He pushed up against Dean's cock, feeling safe, and warm, and happy. He loved having Dean's weight on him, pressing him down, proof that this was real, this was his second lease on life with a man he loved, a man who loved his daughter and treated her better than her own biological father had. "Love you... Mmm.." Absently, he moved his hand lower, over the curve of Dean's ass and to his balls, squeezing lightly and moving back up. Giving a happy sigh, he kissed the corner of Dean's mouth as Dean moved his head to start kissing the other side of Sam's throat.  
"You are gorgeous when you're horny. When you're half asleep, too," Dean teased softly. He moaned when Sam fondled him. "Gonna kiss you all over, just like I promised," he told Sam. Running his hands over the chiseled muscles, he couldn't believe how damned lucky he was. To have found Sam and had Sam fall in love with him. A family. Finally having what he'd always dreamed of. Dean moved his mouth back up to Sam's, but got little to no response and heard Sam's soft snores beginning again. He groaned a curse. He knew Sam wouldn't mind at all if he woke him back up, but for Sam to fall asleep in the middle of--okay, the start of--some serious love making, Sam had to be as whipped as Dean felt. 

"G'night Sammy," Dean breathed and settled down, holding Sam close. In a matter of a few minutes his own snores joined Sam's.

* * *

Sam got up a little later than usual, crept out of the room, then was rushed getting Emily ready for school. She changed her mind a few times on what she would wear to school and kept wanting to go check with Mr. Dean to see what he thought. As they ate their breakfast, she kept looking through the living room, toward the stairs that weren't visible from the dining room. It was usually pretty easy to get Em laughing, but this morning, nothing he said, no story that he told, seemed to erase her somewhat somber mood. It was only when he'd driven her to school, opened up her door, and was helping her out that he got to the bottom of it.  
"Is Mr. Dean ever going to come back?"

"What?" Sam knelt down at the open passenger door, cocking his head to the side.

"Did I make too much noise? I can tell him I'm sorry." Her eyes started to fill with tears.  
"No. No, you didn't make too much noise, Em, there's no such thing. What... He'd never leave us. I mean we can be as noisy as we want, he might get grumpy and tell us to shut up..." Even that didn't get a smile out of her, and that really started to worry him. "What makes you think he'll leave?"

"He's gone. I heard the car and I looked out," she hung her head, her hair falling over her face.

"You mean at night? Last night? Yeah he had to leave, for work--"  
"Didn't take the tow truck."

"No, he didn't. He had other business to take care of. Em, he was tired, so I let him sleep in this morning." He put his hand under her chin and lifted her face. "The car was in front of the house."

Her mouth formed an 'O'.

"Yeah. Oh." Grinning, he lifted her up into his arms and hugged her. When he put her down, she was smiling. "Don't forget your homework." Watching her snatch up the pages she'd left in the car, then run toward the open gate where a teacher was letting the students in, he shook his head, waited for her to turn and give him a wave, then slammed the door shut and walked around the car. 

Because his first appointment was in a couple of hours, he drove back home. When he entered the house, he found Dean sitting on the sofa with a mug of coffee and the scrambled eggs and bacon he'd left covered for him. 

"Morning," he said, bending down and giving Dean a kiss. Walking back to the door, he took his coat off and hung it up. "Pretty damned cold out there."

Disappearing into the kitchen, he got himself some coffee and returned to sit down in the arm chair next to the sofa. "Could you give Emily a call at Lacey's later, after school?" he asked, then told Dean what had happened. "I think she's fine but it wouldn't hurt for her to hear your voice, you know?"

Dean was surprised by the tale. "Didn't realize she had abandonment issues on top of having to deal with everything else," he said. He gave a soft huff. "I can relate, though. When I was a kid, every time Dad walked out that door, I didn't know if he was coming back or if the monster of the day was going to get him. So how long until you disappear on me?" Dean asked around a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

"Huh? I don't disappear on any... oh." He gave a sheepish grin when he realized he'd been defensive and Dean wasn't accusing him of abandoning either Em or Dean. "A couple hours. I'm gonna take care of your hip before I go." He hadn't seen Dean walk and didn't know what shape he was in but he was sure last night's hunt must have taken a toll on him. "You should have woken me up, I wouldn't have minded."

Taking a sip of his coffee, Dean smiled. After swallowing the mouthful he looked at Sam. "I did. You fell asleep while I was keeping my promise about kissing every inch of your body. Hadn't gotten any further than your neck though and you were out like a light again. Figured if you were that tired, you needed your sleep." 

"What? No!" Flashes of what Dean was telling him came back to Sam and he felt the heat creeping up to his cheeks at the memory. "Dammit..." Making a face, he rubbed his temples using the thumb and index finger of one hand and shook his head. "I can't believe I did that. After all the... I wouldn't have minded if you woke me again or dumped cold water on me to make sure I woke. You know, I didn't used to believe in curses, but between your books," he gestured toward the office and _this_..." Meeting Dean's gaze, he gave a rueful laugh. He knew damned well there were way worse things in the world than frustration from lack of sex.

"I thought about it, but you were so warm, and other than my hard on, I was comfortable and tired, and I sort of fell asleep myself before getting around to shaking you back awake. As for curses, I talked with Rufus. He swears there's nothing in that box of stuff that should be impacting our love lives. You didn't touch anything in the box did you?" Dean asked, wanting to confirm it. He'd gone through the stuff and found nothing, but he'd known what he was doing.

Sam avoided Dean's gaze, looking away. The silence had him turning back. "Not until _after_ I started believing maybe there was something in there." It had been a couple days after he'd laughed at Dean for doing the same thing.

"You used tongs, right? You didn't actually _touch_ anything? Right?" Dean asked worriedly. 

Giving another grimace, Sam shook his head 'no.' "You know it's mostly papers and some coins in there. And a pill box with a really ugly painting on it. Dean, it was _after_ all this started so it's not anything I did, or touched," he insisted, starting to get worried by Dean's expression.  
Dean sighed. "Most cursed items don't just blow up on you when you touch them, but Sammy, you gotta be real careful. Some do. Or a stray thought can activate it if you’re holding it. I'll go over all the paperwork and make sure. And like you said it was after. We're just having a run of inconvenient timing, that's all. Tonight, we'll break it. Tonight, no phone calls, nothing. Just you and me." 

"I will, be careful," he promised and gave a half-hearted, "yeah." That had been the plan last night, too. For a moment, he was mesmerized by the sight of Dean wiping his mouth with his finger, then he narrowed his gaze. "That's you not playing fair. I'm onto your tricks." His lips curved into a smile. "It's fine, I happen to like them, even if they're kinda... torture sometimes."

Dean smirked. "Dude, I was just wiping my mouth. That didn't even come close to torture. Don't tempt me or I might start licking my fingers clean. Y'know, if I'd known you had a couple hours, I'd've waited to take my shower until you got back. Course, hell, the phone rang while I was in the shower anyhow. Maybe I'm the cursed one," Dean said. Setting his plate back on the coffee table, he looked at Sam. "What say you and I disappear into the therapy room and get a little therapy in?" Dean jerked his head toward the room that had initially been Sam and Emily's when they first stayed with him. "Any type of therapy you'd like." 

"Maybe a mish mash of therapy?" He got up and stood in front of Dean. "Yeah, that sounds good to me. I do a little fixing," he smiled when Dean got up and stood only inches away. "Then you do a little fixing, and then I can do a little more fixing," he said, taking a couple slow steps, walking backwards toward the room. "And as long as there's fixing, you can do all the finger licking you want." His gaze lingered on Dean's mouth and he felt a rush of heat just thinking about the kissing and touching. 

Dean took hold of Sam's hand and brought it to his mouth. He slowly licked one of Sam's fingers and he followed Sam, a raging fire in both their gazes. "Like that?" he asked. "Or maybe like this," he said and sucked one of Sam's fingers into his mouth.

"Yeah... just like that. Maybe... maybe somewhere lower," Sam answered huskily, pushing his finger deeper into the wet heat of Dean's mouth, his pulse kicking up as Dean's tongue swirled around it. "We probably should slow down. I mean... therapy first." God, his mind wasn't on therapy. Slowing his steps at the door, he moved to the side and they moved in tandem, reversing positions so it was Dean who was backing into the room now, still sucking on Sam's fingers. 

_Fuck therapy_ was clear in Dean's eyes, Dean was certain. Putting his hands on Sam's waist he slid one hand down to the button and undid it. He groped Sam then, sucking harder on his finger, promise in every move he made. The bed struck the back of his knees and he stopped, unzipping Sam's pants and reaching inside to find that sweet flesh waiting for his touch.

"Dean," Sam breathed out his name, his stomach clenching as Dean's calloused palm grazed his cock then closed around it. Between that, and the way Dean still sucked on his finger, Sam could barely think straight. He reached for Dean's hips, gripping them and moving closer, then pulling his finger out of Dean's mouth with a wet pop and leaning in to collect a kiss. Their tongues met and tangled outside their mouths. Sam let out a hungry moan, felt Dean bump against the bed and started to push him down. "You make it so damned hard for me... to fix you," he said, watching Dean land on the bed and climbing on top of him, his knees on either side of Dean's thighs. As he rubbed his ass over Dean's groin, he cursed, "Should have taken my jeans off."  
"I was trying, Mr. Impatient," Dean said as he continued to stroke Sam. "This is all the fixing I need right now." Dean pulled Sam down into a proper kiss, his tongue ravaging Sam's mouth. His free hand slid under Sam's shirt and tugged it up some so he could get to Sam's abs and chest. "Need you...want you..." Dean muttered in between panted breaths. 

"Oh God, me too, want you." He inhaled Dean's fresh clean scent, kissing him back with everything he had. He loved how Dean touched him, it didn't matter how desperate or possessive he was feeling, he always put Sam first and Sam always... _always_ knew it. Rubbing harder over Dean's hardening cock, he pulled his own shirt off, breaking the kiss. Sliding back, down to Dean's knees, he started to undo Dean's belt, tugging hard on it, his breath catching at the way Dean reacted. Unzipping him, he started to tug Dean's jeans down and bent over, licking him from the notch of his collar bone up his throat and across his lips. "Can't wait for you to be inside me. Been so damned long," he said, starting another long kiss.

Dean never could get enough of staring at Sam's face or bare chest, or bare ass, or bare anything. When Sam pulled off his shirt, he felt blood rush southward, not that his cock needed much encouragement. He let out with a loud groan and arched up when Sam fiddled with getting his belt open, followed by his jeans. "Right there with you, Sammy," Dean said, helping Sam with getting his pants off. "Lube, Dude. We need lube." 

Cursing, Sam got off Dean and sat on the edge of the bed as he pulled the nightstand's drawer open and got a tube out. Tossing it on the bed next to Dean, he stood up and undid his own jeans and pushed them down to his thighs, giving Dean a good view of his ass. He probably should just shuck them off but when he turned and saw the lust in his lover's eyes, he was lost to reason. Practically diving onto Dean, he kissed him hard, rubbing his groin against Dean's, then rolling half way onto his stomach and looking over his shoulder at his lover.

"Fuck..." Dean whispered when Sam bared his ass so temptingly and his hand shot out and grabbed the lube. He was already leaking and his balls were aching. He moaned into Sam's mouth and rubbed back against him. When Sam rolled off him and looked at him so coyly, his ass ready for the taking, he nearly blew his wad then and there.

A sudden knock on the front door had Dean cursing. "Fuck 'em, they'll go away," Dean growled opening the lube. "This is our time. Long overdue."

He squeezed some lube out onto his fingers, fingers that were shaking from the adrenalin and need. He heard louder knocking and then the front door opened. "Hello? Is anyone home? We had an appointment?" a man called out.

Dean swore under his breath. "Goddammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit!" He had completely forgotten someone was supposed to be here this morning. The door to the bedroom was open and any sound would surely draw the customer further in. 

"Sorry, Sam," he muttered wiping the lube on the bedspread, cleaning his hand free of it. He pushed himself up and pulled his pants on, biting back the pain-filled moan. He already had blue balls from the week of interrupted sex. Grabbing his shirt and pulling it on, he called out to the customer, "I'm coming, just stay right there." He looked over at Sam, his eyes filled with the frustration and need they both were feeling, then headed out to meet the man. 

Sam didn't trust himself to say anything. Not a thing because anything that passed his teeth would be nothing short of a shout. Dammit, dammit, dammit. So damned close... He was tempted to take things into his own hands and jack himself off but he was irrationally upset and just wanted to get the hell out of there. Dragging his shorts and jeans up, he forced the zipper up and buttoned up. When he looked into the mirror, he saw his face was flushed and his eyes shone with tears of frustration. Calling himself all sorts of an idiot, he stalked out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

It was early afternoon and Sam had an hour between appointments. Stepping into the small massage room, he sat down on the chair next to the bed. He'd already cleaned it up and prepared it for the next client, but now that he had nothing to do, all he could think about was Dean. Yeah, he probably should just walk out into the cold and maybe go grab a coffee or something. Instead, he took his phone out of his pocket and speed dialed Dean's number. Hearing Dean's low raspy voice, his heart gave a jump. "It's me. Sorry I walked out without ... you know... I just... I wasn't sure I wouldn't drag you back into the house to finish what you started." He let out a sigh. "I'm still a little hard. I can't get it out of my head, how you looked, how ready you were. Are you? A little hard for me, still?" He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

"I think I would have let you drag me back in," Dean said, a smile in his voice. "Next time, don't forget to lock the front door. They could have pounded all they wanted but since they were inside..." Dean sighed. "Yeah, same here. And yeah. I'm looking forward to tonight."

"Tonight. That's hours away. And that's if the house doesn't get struck by lightning. Or, you know, if we don't have a volcanic eruption or the freaking abominable snowman doesn't show up at the door. And don't you dare tell me he's real and how to kill him." Though he usually enjoyed hearing Dean talk about the supernatural, he wasn't in the mood for a lecture right now. "I want to hear something else, Dean." His hand drifted to his zipper and need filled his voice. "I want you to tell me what you'd have done if we weren't interrupted. Make it as dirty as you want."

Dan was silent for a moment before he answered. "I would...love...to do that, Sam. You have no idea but...ah, I can't right now," Dean said. 

"Wha... Dean, I...If I wasn't desperate, I wouldn't ask. I've never had phone se--"

"... Lacey sprained her ankle and is at the hospital," Dean interrupted. "I'm at her place until the parents can come get the kids. This streak of whatever the hel--heck it is, we are gonna break it tonight. Before we both go crazy....No! Dillon, put that down! Jenny, stop teasing him!" Dean yelled, pulling the phone away from his mouth so he wasn't shouting in Sam's ear. "I gotta go Sam, the natives are getting restless," he said apologetically. "But I'm definitely up for this game any time in the future. I'll make it so dirty, we'll have to throw the phones into the washing machine after I'm done," Dean promised, part of his mind already thinking about future phone sex with his lover and liking the idea a lot.

Sam's eyes widened and his hand immediately dropped away. "Okay... go." Snapping his phone shut, he let out a deep breath. Yup, it was time for plan B. Ice cold outside air and coffee. 

* * *

Emily sat on one side of the desk coloring her picture and sometimes looking across the desk at Dean, who was reading through some old book and writing on a paper. Eventually, she stood up on her knees on the chair and leaned across the desk, getting a closer look at what he was doing. "Is that a fairy?" she asked, seeing the wings in the picture. "It looks like a witch-fairy because witches have bumpy noses and ..." she crawled closer, until her face was close to Dean's. "And big warts."

"Most witches do not have bumpy noses and," he eyed Emily with great seriousness, "big warts. This," he put his finger on the picture of the thing he was researching for a fellow hunter, "is a harpy. They're evil half-women, half-birds. One of those Greek heroes went up against them I think, defeating the evil, naturally, cause that's what heroes do, you know. Chase bad things back to their nests and call the cops to take the bad things away. When words don't work," Dean added. He wanted to tell Emily that hunters kicked evil's ass, toasting them, beheading them, burning their bones or whatever, but Sam would have his hide if Em repeated that. So he told the little girl things that he didn't entirely agree with, but it was Sam's call, not his.

Rubbing the smooth bridge of her nose, Emily tried to imagine a witch without a bumpy nose. Oh! He must mean like a good witch, like Sabrina. Having understood what he meant, she paid rapt attention and nodded gravely. "Do they steal kids and want to eat them? I hate harpies," she decided right there and then.

Although harpies did abduct people and kill them, he didn't want Emily to know that. "They steal hungry people's food and poop on kids' ice cream," Dean said, since that was part of legend, sort of. "And when they flap their wings they can make the wind blow really hard."

"Poop?" She made an utterly disgusted face. "I don't want to be a harpy for Halloween." Watching him write some more notes, she frowned. "Mr. Dean? What if a harpy comes and..." she flapped her arms, "... and then blows the house down?"

Dean smiled. "Our house was built by the best of the best, like that third pig built his house. No wolf or harpy could blow this house down. Besides, they can't make the wind blow that hard. They can just make the trees dance." Dean pursed his lips a minute and stared at the little girl. "You know, you can call me 'Dean.' You don't have to call me 'Mr. Dean' anymore. We're friends, right? I'm not going anywhere and so long as your dad is happy here with me, you and your dad aren't going anywhere, so you can call me what you want, okay?" 

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. She crawled back so she could look into his face. "Daddy won't like it if I don't call you Mr. Dean. Old people are Mister and Miss," she said gravely, quoting her dad, then lapsing into silence for a moment. "But what if you're not happy. If I make you mad. Madder then Dex. Then will you... will you leave," she asked quietly.

"You should always show older people respect," Dean said with a nod of approval. Seeing her sudden concern, he reached out and cupped the side of her face. "Sometimes I get unhappy. Everyone does. Sometimes I get mad. Everyone does that too. But I would never leave you or Sam. Even if things somehow don't work out between me and Sam, it won't have a thing to do with a certain little imp." He touched his finger to her nose. "You can always count on me. I will always be here for you. But I think things between me and Sam are always going to be good. Made even better, because of you, munchkin. Hey, maybe you could call me Uncle Dean or something? That's still respectful. And did you get your homework done? Sammy will be home soon and want to see it." 

She giggled at the idea of calling him that and picked up her paper to show him. "I matched the numbers and colored, and I didn't go outside the lines." Sliding off the desk, she dropped down onto the chair. "We put your name on the swing by ours. We're not going anywhere either."  
"You did a good job on that picture. Sam will be proud." He smiled as he thought of the swing. "I'm glad you're not going anywhere. What's with all the red construction paper you have stacked up there? Got a project for class?"

"Daddy's gonna help me make Valentine cards. We're gonna cut out hearts and glue them. And sparkles too. You could make them with us." She suddenly gave an audible indrawn breath. "Daddy's here," she said, scampering off the chair and running to the door.

"Valentines?" Dean murmured and glanced at the calendar. Shit, tomorrow was Valentine's Day. 

By the time she got it open and ran out onto the porch, Sam was already coming up the stairs. Catching her, he threw her over his shoulder. "What happens to little girls who walk out in the cold without a coat? Hmmm?" She was kicking, giggling and screaming at the tickling until he set her down and gave her a kiss. Stepping back, he pushed the door shut and immediately looked for Dean. "Busy?" he asked, setting the small bag down and walking into the study. "Kids must have worn you out."

"Had someone asking about harpies. Lots of lore. Lots of crap about them. Trying to pick through it all. And the parents got there pretty fast. Dean Winchester, watching their kids?" He laughed. "Yeah, no one was late picking up their kids today, but I swear, I don't know how Lacey does it." 

Just as Sam leaned down and kissed Dean, Emily piped up with, "I think Mr. Dean wants you to be his brother."

Pulling back like his lips had been burned, Sam gave Dean a questioning look. "Is it the curse again..."

Dean's eyes widened and it took him a moment to figure out how Emily had come up with that. "I told her she didn't need to call me Mr. Dean anymore. She could call me Dean or Uncle Dean, or whatever. Us being brothers, that would just be...awkward. Maybe Uncle Dean isn't a good idea, cause now...yeah, let's skip the Uncle Dean suggestion," Dean said making a face.

Running his hand through his hair, Sam looked over at Emily and smiled. It was just better not to reinforce any ideas, he knew that from experience. "I got apple pie and special vanilla ice cream for after dinner."  
"Yay!" Emily jumped up.

"Uh huh, and neither of you are getting any until after dinner. Of course we're having broccoli stew," he added, as he walked out, grabbing the bag and heading for the kitchen. Em's peals of laugher at Dean's expense had Sam grinning until he heard her shouting.

"Make sure the harpies don't poop on the ice cream!"

Sam popped his head out of the kitchen, looked at the pair of them exchanging secret looks, shook his head, and went back into the kitchen.

* * *

They'd had dinner and made the Valentine's cards and eaten dessert. Sam had given Emily her bath and put her down, then he watched a movie while Dean cleaned some of his guns in front of the TV. After the movie, Sam decided to go up and check on Em.

Upstairs, he opened the door to her room and stood in the doorway. The moonlight bathed her bed and he could see her face clearly. She looked so at peace snuggled under the fluffy comforter and among her stuffed animals. Just seeing her in a nice, normal environment, with no fear that sounds of shouting and hitting and furniture breaking would rip her out of her dreams, warmed his heart. She was a light sleeper; it was probably why she'd heard Dean start the car up last night. 

He felt Dean come up behind him, felt the warmth of his body behind him as he too looked inside. "This is what should have been hers all her life," Sam said softly.

"Life's not perfect for anyone, Sammy," Dean said, wrapping his arms around his lover's waist. It certainly hadn't been perfect for anyone he knew. "You should have had this all your life, too. Let's just hope the worst of it is over for both of you, dues are all paid, and the rest of your lives will be nothing but good things." Pulling Sam closer to him, he whispered in his ear, "Speaking of good things, let's go break that damned curse. Now."

Dean's warm breath in his ear sent heat flooding through Sam's system. Pulling the door shut, he turned his face and kissed Dean lightly. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Walking backwards toward their room, Dean grinned. "Just 'like'? The man who wanted to have phone sex for the first time? The man who I've been dreaming of ripping his clothes off and sucking his dick so far down my throat it'll end up in my lungs? The man whose image I've had to jack off to three times today? And you'd just 'like' it? Damn, I gotta be doing something wrong." Just having Sam this close and knowing what was ahead had blood pooling in his cock.

"Dean! Fuck..." He turned in Dean's arms as they stumbled into their own bedroom. "Three times? You sure you have something left for me?" The way Dean was holding him, the way his burgeoning cock pressed into Sam's hip, Sam knew the answer. "About the phone sex... I was desperate," he said, his face warming even as he ran his hands down Dean's back and squeezed his ass, pulling him closer. "Don't have to, you know, bring it up ever again."

"What's wrong with phone sex?" Dean said, beginning to nuzzle the side of Sam's neck. "I'll have you know phone sex with me is almost as hot as the real deal. If not for the kids," Dean paused as he sucked Sam's warm flesh into his mouth and held it in his teeth as he put a fresh mark on his lover, "I'd have had you coming a couple times over." Running his hands from Sam's lower back down to Sam's ass, he squeezed and kneaded those firm muscles. His cock was growing stiffer by the second. "Damn, I want you so bad, Sammy. So damned bad."

With the effect that Dean's words were having on him, Sam was having trouble keeping his breathing under control. He started to tug Dean's shirt off. "Time to show me. Show me Dean," he pleaded, tossing Dean's shirt aside he worked his hands under Dean's tee shirt, walking backwards until he hit the wall. His hands skimmed over Dean's abs then he hooked his fingers into the waistband of Dean's pants and tugged him hard. As their groins collided, he gave a soft moan and sought out Dean's mouth.

Dean didn't waste any time welding his mouth over Sam's. He closed his eyes, savoring every dance and twist their tongues made with one another. Grinding his trapped cock against Sam's groin, he groaned, one hand going behind Sam's head to cup it and hold it there as he intensified their kiss. His other hand went to Sam's chest, caressing firm muscles and finding one of Sam's nipple under the fabric and rubbing it. 

"You drive me crazy," Dean panted when he finally had to take a breath. "Good crazy, but crazy," Dean said.

"I'm way past crazy for you, way past." The rub of his jeans against his cock was driving Sam insane, as were Dean's touches and promises of things to come. Arching his neck, he squeezed his eyes shut and allowed himself to just feel, feel how Dean's mouth felt against the soft flesh of his throat, how his hot whispered words affected him, and how his hands knew just how to move over him, to stimulate him. His blood quickly caught fire. When he couldn't take it a moment longer, he tugged Dean's shirt up, pulling it off and letting Dean return the favor. Then he was in Dean's arm's again, mouth to mouth, every inch of his body touching Dean's, from ankle, to knees to hips. The instant Dean's knee slipped between his legs and pressed snug up against his balls and cock, a deep moan ripped from his throat. His hands explored every inch of Dean's back and sides, touching him, pulling him closer, wanting him so damn badly he could barely think.

It took every ounce of control Dean had not to just turn Sam around, yank his pants down, and take Sam then and there. He pulled Sam closer if that were possible, almost painfully tight against him. The need raging in him had him leaking and ready. He breathed in Sam's heady scent, trying to get himself under control. Sam had to come first. He'd spent too many years not coming first. When Dean felt he could move without taking Sam hard and furiously, he eased his hold on his lover and stepped back, his hands practically shaking as he dropped to his knees and unbuttoned Sam's jeans. Looking up, his eyes traced the solid muscle of Sam's abs, up his chest, his neck, until his gaze reached Sam's face, looking into Sam's beautiful eyes. 

"Gorgeous," Dean breathed, keeping his gaze on Sam's face as he unzipped him, releasing him from his jeans. 

Stomach tensed tight, Sam put his hands on Dean's shoulders, massaging them as he locked gazes with Dean. Holy hell, just the thought of his lover's lips finally closing around his cock had him wanting to come right there and then. He ran his thumb over Dean's mouth, then dipped his thumb inside, his eyes growing heavy lidded as he imagined replacing his finger with his dick. "How did I get so lucky?" he asked, jerking as he was pulled slightly from the wall when Dean started to push his pants down. "Want..."

Before he could finish, he heard a sound. If it had been anything but Emily, he would have ignored it and told it to go to hell. Instead, he was pulling his pants up and calling, "I'll be right there, Em." Running a hand over his face, he walked out, lengthening his strides to get across the hall.

***

On his knees next to her bed, Sam stroked Emily's hair as she whispered between sobs, telling him about her nightmare. Her every other word was about 'bad men' but most of it didn't make sense. He just kept reassuring her that it was only a dream, and wiped her tears away. 

Usually, she'd go right to sleep after he woke her, only asking to make sure he would stay until she fell asleep. Tonight she reached for him and hugged him and wouldn't let him go. Moving her over, Sam got into the bed and held her close, humming softly to her.   
*

Dean had bit back any groan or complaint when Sam left. Usually Emily fell back asleep within five or ten minutes. He could wait that long. He had disrobed, had the lube on the nightstand and decided there wouldn't be any delaying when Sam got back. They were going to break this curse of coitus interruptus. He'd get Sam prepped with a little tongue, then some lube, then jack him off as he fucked him to within an inch of both their lives.  
Five minutes came and went. Then ten. Then twenty. At a half hour, Dean pulled on some undershorts, sweats, and a t-shirt and padded across the hall. Sam was crammed into Emily's bed, talking softly to her.

"She can sleep with us tonight," Dean said quietly. Walking in, he touched Sam's shoulder. "You, go get into sweats and a tee. I'll get Em," he said, giving Sam's temple a kiss. "Go. I got her."

When Sam moved, Dean swept Em into his arms. "Had a bad dream tonight, huh, sweetheart? Well, you have me and Sammy to protect you from all those monsters, real or from your nightmares. Don't you worry. We got you, Em. We'll always have you."

She put her arms around his neck and nodded against Dean's chest, yawning sleepily as he carried her out.

Sam stood there for a long moment. Her trust in Dean hadn't escaped him. And Dean... He didn't have to do this, wreck his own comfort, but as usual, Dean found a way to put them first. He couldn't help comparing what would have happened if they'd still been living with Dex. Hell would have been raised if Dex had wanted Sam when Emily needed him at the same time. It sure wouldn't have been Em's needs or Sam's that would have come first. Forcing himself to shake off thoughts of broken furniture and bruises that couldn't be hidden, of the memory of waking in Em's bed once to her screams when she'd sat up and found that the pillow Sam had been laying on was soaked with blood from his nose, he followed them.

By the time he'd changed and shut the lights off, Dean and Em were already in bed. He joined them, smiling when he saw Em's eyes were nearly shut. Ten minutes later, his daughter was soundly sleeping between them, and Sam had one arm protectively curled around her and his other arm was stretched across the pillows, allowing him to run his fingers through Dean's hair, petting him. "You're a good man, Dean," he said, smiling in the dark. "Love you."

"Family comes first, Sammy. Nothing's more important than family," Dean said. "We got the rest of our lives for our fun. She needed us tonight." Reaching up he caught Sam's hand and brought it to his lips. "Get some sleep. And ditto on the chick-flick stuff."

***

Dean woke up first for a change, smiling when he saw Sam and Emily beside him. He climbed out of bed, nearly tripping over Rumsfeld, and took his shower downstairs so as not to wake the two. He packed lunches for both of them and carefully gathered Em's homework and all the Valentine cards that had been made the night before. Putting the Valentines in a paper lunch bag that he wrote Emily's name on in glue, he sprinkled the glue with red glitter. Then he started up a breakfast of pancakes and bacon, keeping an eye on the time. When the bacon was done and he poured the pancake batter into the skillet, he went to the bottom of the stairs and called up, "Breakfast!"

He was nearly run over as Rumsfeld raced downstairs, his big tail wagging. "Your food is already down, Rummy," Dean said. The dog trotted into the kitchen and began gobbling down his kibbles. "Come on you two! Up and at 'em." He returned to the kitchen and started setting the table, sipping from his coffee occasionally. 

Fifteen minutes later Sam and Emily descended the stairs fully dressed and entered the kitchen where Dean was skillfully handling breakfast. Sam smiled. "Must be Valentine's Day."

Meanwhile, Emily saw the stack of pancakes and gave a whoop. "Yay, Pop-pops makes the bestest pancakes."

"He does?" Sam was about protest with mock offense when he frowned and silently mouthed to Dean, 'Pop-pops?'

Dean gave a shrug. First time he'd heard Emily say it, too. "What does me making breakfast have to do with it being Valentine's Day? You just usually wake up first." He waved them to sit and began dishing out breakfast, pausing to plant a kiss on Sam's lips. "And I do make the best pancakes. No broccoli in 'em. The orange juice is even fresh squeezed, right out of the carton," Dean said with a smirk. After retrieving his coffee and getting Sam's, he settled down at the table. 

"Well I put the syrup on best," Sam chuckled, drizzling Emily's pancake with syrup poured in a heart shape and then doing the same for Dean, despite the man's semi-glare. "We know you like it, Dean," he said, barely containing himself.

Emily saw no sense in holding it in and was laughing even as she stabbed her fork into the pancakes and worked to cut them. "Mmmm," she gave her approval of her first bite.

"All that extra syrup's just gonna make the pancakes that much mushier that much faster," Dean said, shaking his fork at Sam. Dean took his first bite. "Man, these are good this morning. Must be that extra ground spider I put in 'em. I made your lunches, and Em, you need to make sure I got everything you need for school. I didn't put any crayons or markers or anything like that down in your backpack, but they're laying next to it." He tossed a piece of bacon over his shoulder and heard Rumsfeld's happy crunching as the dog caught it.  
She was closely examining her pancakes. "I don't see spider legs."

"He probably used special albino spiders so they'd mix in."  
Her eyes went to her dad, then to Dean, then she smiled. "Okay," and popped another bite into her mouth. "We should make spider cookies."

Shaking his head, Sam waved a piece of bacon at her. "You're getting too smart. Wait till you see exactly what's in the lunch Dean packed for us." He gave Dean a grateful look. "I'll give Lacey a call a little later to see if she's taking kids today or not. If not, I'll cancel my afternoon appointments and get Em from school."

"Oh I can help 'Popsy' fix cars, right?" 

Sam almost choked on his food and let Dean answer.

Apparently, Dean decided, Emily was trying out different names for him to figure out what she liked best. Dean figured she'd probably settle on 'Pops' which kind of made him feel old, but it also kind of made him smile. "Yeah, Munchkin can help me fix cars if Lacey isn't up to kid-sitting. Today's a busy day for you. It won't be busy for me probably so I can work on restorations. The Imp is beginning to learn her tools so she can be my gopher if it comes to that. I'll cook dinner tonight, so you just focus on your customers today. I got it handled." 

"Every time you two work on cars, I get quizzed." Sam sighed. "Fine, and you're right, it's gonna be a busy day but since it's date night for a lot of people, I won't be working too late."

After breakfast, Sam made sure Emily had collected all her school things and was kneeling down and buttoning her coat as he spoke with Dean. "We've been neglecting your therapy, I'll take care of that tonight."

"And a red hot massage," Emily piped in.

Dean's eyes widened with shock. The kid was only six! Where did she...?

"Huh?! What?" Sam said.

She was just grinning at him innocently and Sam wracked his brain. "Oh, Valentines..." he turned to Dean, the look of relief clear on his face. "Red hot massage and red hot hair-do is the Valentine's special at the salon."  
"Ow!"

"Sorry," Sam loosened her collar area and stood up. "Grab your things. No, don't try to get mine, it's fine," he added, walking over to Dean and bringing him the paper. Putting it down on the table, he gave Dean a light kiss. Anything more was dangerous, he knew that from yesterday. "I'll see you tonight. If something comes up and Lacey can't take Em, you know you can drop her off at the salon. The girls spoil her and it would be fine." He wanted to add, don't look at me that way, but instead, he reluctantly pulled his gaze away from the heat in Dean's eyes and then headed to the door.

***

Dean was busy all day long getting everything pulled together and ready. He'd honestly never done anything quite like this before so he hoped he wasn't going overboard or something. He checked his tie and hair in the rearview mirror, then sucked in a deep breath and grabbed the plant and Sam's suit and headed into the salon. The lady at the garden shop said these plants did fine in low light and he hoped she was right cause he didn't know shit about plants. "Donna Lee, Sam with a customer?" Dean asked.

Donna Lee looked Dean over, both her eyebrows lifting in surprise. "I don't believe it. The rumors? They're true?"

Giving a half shrug, Dean gave her a charming smile. "Is he with a customer?"

"No, he just finished up. He's changing out the sheets and prepping the room. That was his last customer. So are you and he...?"

"Talk to you later, Donna Lee," Dean said and headed in back to where Sam had his massage table set up. The door was ajar and he pushed it open with his foot. "Hey," he said to Sam, holding out the basket with the live plant. "Happy VD."

Sam whipped around at the unexpected sound behind him then stilled like he'd been frozen in place. His gaze traveled slowly down Dean's body, then came back up to meet Dean's eyes. His lips curved into a smile as he stepped forward and welded his mouth to Dean's, kissing him and winding one arm around his waist and the other around his shoulder. "Dude, you're the best Valentine's gift," he said, meaning every word. "Smell so freaking good." Rubbing his face against Dean's throat, he took another deep breath, and pulled away, taking the plant from him. 

Reluctantly, Sam pulled his gaze away from Dean and walked across the small room to put the plant on the stand where he had lotions. His eyes misted, but luckily his back was to Dean. "No one ever got me flowers or a plant or really anything for Valentines." Now that he thought about it, he'd never really done anything special on a Valentine's Day, unless watching Dex get drunker and lewder by the moment counted. Swallowing, he turned around again. "Thanks Dean. Not just for this. For everything. For being 'the right guy' for me." A little embarrassed, he flushed. "Okay, chick flick moment's over."

"Oh, the chick-flick shit has just started, Dude." Dean handed over Sam's suit with a grin. "Get dressed. I got us a table reserved at that Italian restaurant you keep saying you want to check out. After that, we're going to go to the theater. They're doing Camelot. I hear for a community theater, they're pretty decent. When it's over, we swing by Lacey's and pick up Emily. I already dropped off her pjs and her favorite stuffed animal. Sound good?"

He'd assumed Emily was outside, getting fussed over by Donna Lee and the others. It took a moment for Sam to get what Dean was saying and why he wanted him to change. "We have date? A date date?" Dean was ready to go to the theater even? Sam knew, beyond a doubt, this was all for him. "Sounds great. Really great." He hung the suit up on the hook on the wall and started to pull his shirt off. "You know, just dinner and drinks or whatever would... it would be great. I mean we don't have to do the theater thing."

"Figured it was about damned time I took you out on a date," Dean said. "And if we're gonna do a date, we're gonna do it right. And there isn't shit playing at the movies, so I figured King Arthur and stuff? That's probably kinda cool and I've never been to a play. Hey, I may hate it, so enjoy it this year. Next year you might get delivery pizza and porno movies," he teased. Folding his arms across his chest he leaned against the wall and watched Sam appreciatively. He forced himself to stay put because if he moved forward to kiss Sam or wrap his arms around him, he had a feeling they wouldn't make it out the door and probably piss off the salon staff in the process.

"I wouldn't complain." Unzipping, Sam started shoving his pants down when he felt the weight of Dean's gaze. "Don't make me consider a quickie," he muttered, giving Dean a look that spoke volumes. It wouldn't be hard to convince him, not hard at all. When he had his pants changed, he crossed over to get the shirt off the hanger, brushing against Dean. His entire body tensed with desire, desire that had been held back for too long. "Hell with it..." Dropping his hand away from the shirt, instead he stepped into Dean's space, his gaze lingering on the man's lips before he cupped the back of Dean's head and slanted his mouth over Dean's. He needed this. They both did. That's all he could think about as he pressed Dean against the wall with his body and ran his other hand up his chest under Dean's jacket.

Pure unadulterated heat lanced through Sam. Moaning, he deepened the kiss, exploring every corner of Dean's silky warm mouth. So good. His guy felt so good, tasted so good. Made him feel so good. Made him forget almost everything. He knew he should stop... really should. "You're so damned hard to resist." His mouth burned, aching for more. "One more..." he whispered.

Dean groaned softly and couldn't help but wrap his arms around Sam. "One more, ten more, a hundred more, it'll never be enough," Dean said and recaptured Sam's mouth, pulling him close as he kissed Sam with all the pent up lust of a week of thwarted lovemaking. He broke the kiss only when he had to, only when he needed to draw in a desperate breath. He ran his hand down the side of Sam's face and stared deeply into those hazel eyes. "I want this Valentine's to be perfect for you. Tell me what you want. Anything you want. Just ask and it's yours."

Sam's breath caught. He knew if he said home, that's where they'd go. If he said a bar, that's what they'd do. If he told Dean he wanted to have sex right here and now, he didn't doubt that Dean would give him that. Choices. Something he hadn't had for a very long time. He pressed his face into Dean's warm calloused hand, then kissed his palm. "I want dinner, and the play. And then I want you. I want us to break the damned curse. A real Valentine's Day." Finding himself swaying closer to Dean, he came to his senses and reluctantly stepped away, missing the heat from Dean's body immediately. "Probably should leave some space between us if I want it to happen, hmm?" Smiling a little, he reached for the shirt again.

Dean released him with a chuckle. "Yeah, probably." As Sam was putting on his shirt, Dean ran a hand down his face and blew out a breath. The way Sam made him feel was like no one else had ever made him feel. The past weeks had been almost magical. Sure there had been some rough spots here and there as they got used to each other and as they discovered inadvertent triggers that would upset the other, but those were momentary events. Overall, he had never been happier. And now, even Emily was calling him her own version of "dad." Dad. Him. He felt a goofy grin on his face as he grabbed the suit jacket and helped Sam into it, then handed him the tie. "I hope you realize I don't get into a monkey suit for just anyone." 

"I'll make it worth your while, get you all wrinkled up," Sam promised, pulling the tie around his collar and tying it without looking away from Dean. He was already imagining himself pushing Dean's jacket off and tugging his crisp shirt up and out of his pants... buttons flying. He licked his lips and swallowed hard. "And if anything tries to stop us, I swear I'm going to go hunter on its ass."

Dean grinned broader, gathering Sam's discarded clothes and putting them in a pillowcase. "I love it when you talk dirty. And you know, I think it's time I start teaching you to shoot. With guns," Dean clarified. He nudged Sam, guiding him toward the door. As soon as they were out in the salon proper, he put his arm around his lover's waist, giving Donna Lee a wink as they left.

He unlocked and opened the car door for Sam, shutting it once Sam was inside. Getting into the driver's seat he reached around behind the seat and brought out a single red rose, presenting it to Sam. A small card was tied to it and simply said "All I ever want."

Sam's hand was a little shaky as he took the rose and read the card. "I'm not cursed. This couldn't be happening if either one of us were," he whispered thickly, blinking away the tears that stung his eyes. Leaning across the seat, he kissed Dean. "You know something? You're a romantic. But don't worry, your secret's safe with me." 

Smiling he sat back. Yeah, he knew this was all for him, but he was sure he was right about Dean. The same way the guy moaned and groaned about Em's girly room but was the greatest contributor to it, he was enjoying this every bit as much as Sam.  
"Never said I wasn't. For the right person," Dean said softly, his eyes filled with happiness. 

***

They'd finished their meals and dessert when their animated conversation found a short comfortable lull. That was when Dean pulled out a small velvet box that he opened and set in front of Sam. Inside was a narrow gold band. "Lady said this was a 'promise ring.' I'm not an idiot. A couple months is kind of a short time to decide to make a life long commitment. But I figure this...this says I wanna make it for the long haul if things keep going good, if you can put up with me. And maybe, if everything is still all good in the fall, maybe you and me and Em can take a trip to Iowa. To make it all official like. It's legal there, you know, two guys getting married. At least it is this month," he said, watching Sam intently, practically holding his breath.

They'd gone from talking about things that made them laugh to this. It caught Sam by complete surprise, making him stare in dumbfounded silence, his heart constricting in his chest. He realized with a start that Dean was done talking and was expecting an answer. "I never... I mean I didn't expect this," he said eventually, running his index finger in endless circles around the ring. "The day you asked us to stay, as far as I'm concerned, it was a forever thing. I mean for as long as you'd have us." They'd only known each other a week back then, and Dean was right, they'd only been together for not quite two months now so logically that might not be enough time to make a decision like this. But logic had nothing to do with decisions like this in the first place. Sam had given Dean his heart. It was a miracle he'd been able to do that so soon after Dex, but that had everything to do with Dean being Dean. "If you want to make it official, I'm there. Hell yeah, I'm there."

He gave a shaky smile and stretched his hand out. "You gonna put it on me?"

Dean took the ring out of the box, his own hand shaking a little. "Yeah, it was forever for me too, you know, when I asked. Now, too. I just...I wanna make sure you're happy, we're happy, and this, it just...you know, shows it. You can look at it and know it's gonna be me and you and Emily. Now. Always." He slid the ring on Sam's finger. "That's a promise." He stood up and walked around to Sam, pulled him to his feet, and gave him a kiss, not giving a shit they were in the middle of a busy restaurant in the small town they lived in.

When the kiss ended, Sam was halfway sure he was having an awesome dream. Only the hard metal ring on his finger told him this was real. "You, me and Emily. It has a nice ring to it," Sam smiled at his own pun and gave Dean another quick kiss. "Let's get out of here and start our forever."  
* * *  
Sam had enjoyed the play a lot. Dean was disappointed with the sad ending and was insisting that the next time they did anything like this, he'd have to make sure the play wasn't like a 'chick flick.' Afterwards, they'd gotten back to the car in the parking lot and Sam had started a hot kissing session against the car. Dean had cut it short, at first claiming it was because it was too cold to stand around outside, but once they were in the car he'd admitted it was a hunter thing. He wanted them safe in the car, a controlled space. Sam wasn't about to argue against being safe, so he was happy enough with the explanation. 

Then again, the way his hand roamed over Dean's thigh as they drove away, he was maybe spoiling for a little something in the car. The look he got from Dean, basically warning him to cut it out before Dean pulled over, had Sam openly grinning.  
They'd picked up Emily from Lacey's and now, Dean brought the car to a stop in front of the house. Sam gave him the rose. "Bring that in for me?" Stepping out of the car and into the cold air, he turned and got Emily from the back seat. Holding her sleeping body in his arms with a blanket pulled over her, he quickly walked up the porch stairs. Dean had the door open for them, so he rushed inside telling Rumsfeld to 'shush.' 

Em was already in her pajamas and never woke. He put her in bed, pulled her blankets over her and kissed her forehead. "Night sweetheart," he whispered and quietly walked out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him. 

Sam headed for the stairs and was half way down when Dean met him almost at the middle. Slowly, he started to take one step after another, walking backwards up the stairs, his gaze locked with Dean's. 

Dean pulled his tie off and then his jacket. "Stay dressed until we get to our room," Dean said. "I wanna watch you undress for me." He eyed Sam's body hungrily but he didn't want this to be a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am first round of sex. He wanted to enjoy his lover. As much as he just wanted to get him in the room and tear his clothes off and fuck him senseless, he wanted this to be special. For both of them.  
"Fine. You keep your shirt on. I want to be the one who takes it off you," Sam answered, running his finger down the center of Dean's chest, then stopping at the closed button on his stomach and undoing it as he took another step. As he got a few of them open, he pulled Dean's shirt out of his pants, sucking his breath in as his hand brushed Dean's warm flesh underneath.

"You're trying to kill me," Dean whispered, his whole gut tightening at the touch of Sam's hand. He walked up the next couple stairs, following Sam, his eyes studying the way his lover moved, the shift of his shoulders, the fall of his hair, the tongue that licked over glistening lips. "Guys, you know, I always thought of them as 'good looking' or whatever. But you. You're beautiful. You're perfection in motion. You've got more grace that just about any man or woman I've ever seen and," Dean cleared his throat a little, "I've watched my share of both. What do you see in a broken up old hunter-mechanic like me? How'd I get so damned lucky?"

Sam never thought Dean would think of him in those terms. Sure he called him gorgeous every once in a while but he'd just told him more than Sam ever expected to hear. His question, though, that had Sam stunned. "You've got to be kidding me. You don't notice how people turn when you walk in? Women, men?" He gave a half shrug. "The way the waitresses are falling all over themselves to serve our table, because of you? I've got eyes Dean; you're freaking hot. And I don't mean just your face or your body. I mean the whole package, Dean Winchester. Hunter. Protector." He stopped at the top of the stairs. "Lover."

"I notice. People like my looks. They don't know me, don't care to." Dean joined Sam at the top of the stairs. "They just want a roll in the sheets. You're...different. You didn't want anything from me. Hell, I scared you half to death at first. When you and I did it, you weren't looking for a free tow, or a free fix on your car. It was just me. You worried about me, my bad leg. You gave me Christmas. You cleaned up the place, just because. You saw me, not Bobby's nephew. Not the slightly off, anti-social scrap yard owner, not the bitchy tow truck driver. You just looked right beyond all of that. And you saw me." Dean wrapped his arms around Sam's waist and tugged him close even as he eased them down the hall toward the bedroom.

"I've never had real friends," Dean said quietly. "I had a dad obsessed with hunting and killing a demon that killed my mom. I was a soldier for him. I know he loved me, but he just didn't say things like that. And Bobby, he was my only other family, even though we weren't really related. I didn't have friends growing up. I never stayed in one place long enough. I never had anyone...love me...like you do. I don't know if you get that, if you can even begin to understand that. You love me. For me. Not for any other reason." A smirk pulled at his lips. "Though being freaking hot probably doesn't hurt." 

As their bodies brushed together, Sam gave a soft moan. It was hard to think when Dean was this close. He kept walking back at the pace Dean set, running his own hands over Dean's back and tugging the back of his shirt out of his pants. "I love you ... for you. And because you're hot. And for all those reasons, every one of them rolled into one. All those things that happened to you, some of them good and some of them bad, they make you who you are today. The man I love." Grabbing Dean's shirt, he tugged him close. "The man I'm going to make love with all night long."   
Eagerly, he brought his mouth down on Dean's, claiming the kiss he'd been yearning since Dean cut them short in the parking lot. Vaguely, he was aware they'd moved into the bedroom, and that Dean had somehow pushed the door closed without taking his hands off Sam.

The man I love... There was no way for Dean to voice how those words made him feel, how his heart skipped a beat in his chest, how his stomach did a far too girly flip-flop inside him. When their lips touched, his blood ignited and his tongue slid inside Sam's mouth, battling tongues trying to be victorious over the other. It was as if they were trying to drink down the essence of the other as they traded breaths and their hands roamed over cloth and flesh. When they finally had to catch their breath, Dean guided them over to the bed.

"Pull me out, then undress for me. Tease me and show me that beautiful body," Dean breathed into his ear. 

Sam's gut clenched at the requests. He rubbed his ear against Dean's moist mouth as he kissed Dean's jaw, his hand moving up and down the center of Dean's body. Moving back just a little, he ran his hand over Dean's clearly visible erection, caressing him lightly, then leaning in to rub his groin against Dean's before reaching for him one more time to get his belt off. Each time he pulled on the belt in the process of getting it open, their bodies collided. Once the buckle was undone, Sam touched Dean's cock over his clothes again, working him up a little before he knelt down and and unbuttoned his pants. 

Gaze locking with Dean's, he brought the zipper down, one tooth at a time. Going slow wasn't easy, not when they'd been cheated out of release so many times. Not when his body was this tense with need, when all he could think about was Dean inside him, fucking him, loving him, showing him again they belonged to each other, mind, body and soul. His fingers curled around the waistband of Dean's pants and he slowly tugged them down, one side at a time, leaving Dean's shorts intact. When the material hit the floor, Dean stepped out of them. "I want a little something," he said softly, palming Dean over his shorts before dipping his hand in and closing his fingers around his thick hard cock and pulling him out. "A little taste of you first," he said, pulling his gaze from Dean's and focusing on his cock.

Every time their groins touched or Sam's hand brushed over his cock or he caressed him, Dean felt his knees go a little weak and more blood headed to his downstairs brain. Dean groaned when Sam's strong hand wrapped around his erection. Sam's words triggered a memory of the first time Dean had breached him with his fingers, readying him for Dean's cock. 

"Just... I want to touch you first," Sam said, trying to push up onto his elbows. "Let me taste you too." 

Dean caressed the side of Sam's face then slid his hand underneath Sam's jaw, lifting Sam's head a little. Hazel eyes met his. "He never gave you anything, never any choices, did he? After we make love this first time, I want to do it again. And this time I want you to be in me. Don't say 'no.' I want this. I want you to know what it's like. It's time to let go of that virginity and that fear." 

Surprised, Sam thought on Dean's words. "No, he didn't but... Dean, I've never felt like I had no choices with you. Anything I want, I ask for." Pulling lightly on Dean's cock, he touched its head to his mouth and licked and kissed it as he imagined being inside Dean, taking him the way he liked to be taken. He smiled suddenly. "I don't need that, it's not what I dream of. If you want it, for you, anything. Anything you want Dean." This was what real choice was... the ability to say no.  
Dean let out with a small muffled groan at the touch of Sam's tongue on his cock. Dean ran his finger's through his lover's soft hair. "You like fucking my mouth, don't you? Do you dream of that?" he asked. 

"All the time. All the time Dean. When you lick you lips, when you do that..." he wiped his lips with Dean's cock, "with your thumb and leave a little ketchup right there. You like fucking my mouth?" he countered, suddenly sucking the head of Dean's cock, rolling his tongue across its surface then taking a little more of it into his mouth. "Hmm?"

"Fucking a mouth is nothing compared to fucking..." Dean's words were lost as his eyes practically rolled back in his head. He had to grab hold of Sam's shoulders just to stay on his feet. "Ungh, God, yeah," he groaned, his hips thrusting a little, seeking entrance into that wet cave of heat. He had wanted to watch Sam undress, jacking himself off some as Sam slowly revealed the flesh he had been so craving to touch for the last week. 

The way Dean jerked, his fingers digging into Sam's shoulders had Sam redoubling his efforts. His lover would never know, never understand what a thrill he got from Dean's reactions. Maybe it was validation, maybe it was just happiness at the fact he could make Dean happy too, but whatever it was, Sam treasured it. He moved one hand over Dean's abs, pressing against him to prevent him from fucking his mouth hard, but also because he knew Dean liked the pressure against that part of his body.

Licking around Dean's hard cock, he came back to his swollen head, teased and licked it a little more. From the rippling of Dean's muscles under his other palm, he could tell what was most effective, and he gave Dean everything... licking, kissing, sucking a little of him, and then the rest of him into his mouth. The sounds Dean made wound Sam up, had him aching to be touched and pawed and slowly fucked senseless. His eyes drifted closed as he thought about those things and hummed his own pleasure around Dean's cock. 

Just as Dean started to thrust harder into his mouth, Sam opened his eyes and pulled off Dean's cock. "Taste good." He stroked Dean one more time with his hand, then using both hands, shoved Dean toward the bed. "Said something about wanting to see me undress?"

An almost painfilled groan escaped Dean's lips. "You're fucking evil," Dean said, but there was no malice, only lust in his voice and eyes as he sat up, bracing on his elbows. "I was gonna jack myself hard while you undressed for me." Looking between his legs, he gave a slight shake of his head. "I'm already at full mast. I touch myself, and shit, Dude," Dean half-complained. Seeing the amusement in Sam's face, Dean smirked. "Just you remember, paybacks are hell. Yeah. Undress for me. Slowly." His eyes were glued to Sam's body as he waited, his cock aching to be touched again. Soon, he told it. Soon.

"Could take a cold shower," Sam suggested in a raw, husky voice as he worked his index finger through the knot in his tie and playing with it, tugged it so it would slide down.

"No way in hell," Dean answered, his hand drifting to his own stomach. Lightly he dragged his fingers over and around the skin there.  
Sam's gaze moved to Dean's stomach. "I love your hands. Strong and gentle and you always know how to hold me," he said, his breath catching as Dean's hand moved lower. He shrugged out of his jacket, untucked his shirt then started to unbutton his shirt. His tie was still very loosely knotted and occasionally hampered his attempt to get the next button. By the time the shirt was hanging open, the sexual energy in the room was palpable. He spread his fingers wide and caressed his stomach, slowly moving his hand up his body, then lingering on an exposed nipple before dropping down to unbutton a cuff. 

When he was done, he walked around the bed and stood facing the mirror, his back to Dean. Eyes locking with Dean's, he started to unbutton his other cuff, making sure that his shirt was open enough that Dean could see a nice expanse of chest. "Am I going too fast?" 

Dean let his own hand drift lower into soft curls as he watched Sam. When Sam's hand touched his own nipple, Dean took hold of his stiff and weeping cock. His breath hitched when Sam circled the bed. "No," Dean rasped out, "You're perfect. As always. Everything I want," Dean said, shifting his position to better see his lover. His eyes raked over Sam's backside, coming to rest on his ass for a long lingering moment before going to the mirror. "God, I want you so badly. My blood is on fire for you, my cock aches to be in you."

Every word, every heated glance from Dean made Sam more anxious to touch him, to be skin to skin with him. His heart beat faster, his blood pulsed at his temples. "I want you in me," he dropped his hands down and quickly undid his pants, pulling both his pants and shorts off in one motion, then straightening, he moved his legs so they were wider apart and pulled one side of his shirt away from his body to run his hand slowly down his chest. By tugging the material far from his body, he was giving Dean a good view of his ass and the way Dean's gaze immediately dropped to look had Sam's cock surging. Biting his lower lip, he allowed his fingers to trail down his ribs, linger in the concave dip next to his hip as he imagined Dean's mouth there, and then slid it up and down his thigh. "Want your hands on me, you mouth on me. Been hard for you for over a week," he moaned softly, turning.

In a few strides, he was at the bed, climbing on it and sitting between Dean's legs with his back to Dean. He started to pull his shirt off his shoulder, looking at Dean in the mirror. "Get this off me," he said, leaning back slightly. Dean's hard, slightly wet cock pressed against his back, sending a strong wave of pure lust through Sam. He moaned again, moving back and forth, every nerve in his body vibrating with excitement as Dean's cock pressed and slid against his back.

Dean leaned forward, trapping his own cock against Sam as he kissed Sam's bared shoulder. He pulled the material down more and kissed a little lower, grinding against him. "Every day, I've imagined us together. I've imagined touching you and kissing you and not getting interrupted." He switched shoulders as he pulled down the collar on that side. Licking up the side of Sam's neck, he kissed his way back down it. Grabbing hold of the shirt he pulled it off Sam, tossing it aside then, wrapping his arms around Sam, he pulled Sam so close there was almost no space between them.

"I've missed this, and I don't just mean the sex. I mean holding you in my arms." Sliding his hand downward, he brushed his hand over Sam's cock, running his palm over the dripping tip. Reaching deeper, he fingered Sam's heavy balls, rolling them gently in his fingers before he took hold of Sam's cock and began to slowly stroke it. 

"Ngh... Dean..." Sam whimpered, shudders of pleasure rippling through him and causing him to arch. Raising his arm, he reached behind, his hand cupping Dean's head as he turned toward him. "Never enough. Never get enough of you," he said, stretching and sealing Dean's mouth with his. His tongue slid against Dean's, instantly tangling in a heated dance. He pressed back, trying to get impossibly closer and thrust into Dean's fist, eyes closing tight as he squirmed in the envelope of Dean's arms and body surrounding him.

As Dean stroked him harder, Sam intensified the kiss, demanding more. With each gasp, he breathed in Dean's unique scent and the hint of cologne. With each desperate kiss, he memorized Dean's taste, so sweet and hot, with a hint of liquor, like whiskey on a cold winter's day. This was where he belonged, the only man he wanted to be with, and the ring on his finger proved Dean felt the same way. "Love you. Love you Dean," he whispered between kisses, refusing to allow Dean's mouth to pull away from him. With his other hand, he kneaded Dean's thigh, squeezing and stroking him, sometimes gripping him hard when Dean stroked or squeezed him just right and he practically lifted off the bed in mindless pleasure. 

Every movement Sam made put pressure against Dean's cock and he was feeling the build of need. "Want in you," Dean said. "Want you riding me, just like this." Even as he told Sam, he couldn't seem to stop stroking his lover, devouring the sounds Sam made the way they were devouring each other's mouths. He thrust against Sam, leaving hot trails of pre-come along his lower back. 

"Yeah... okay." Agreeing quickly, Sam folded his knees under himself and then leaned forward, his breaths panting out as Dean prepared him. He didn't want to wait any more and despite Dean's protests, started to sit back, giving Dean a moment to align the blunt tip of his cock to Sam's hole. The brush of Dean's heated flesh already had Sam moaning. "Don't tease Dean," he rasped, slowly lowering himself. Squeezing his eyes closed, he gave a harsh sound as Dean breached the tight ring of muscle. He sank down further, taking Dean inch by inch until his ass was flush against Dean's thighs. The burning pleasure and pain had him groaning as he shifted, putting his hands down on the bed on either side of Dean's hips. He let out a couple of hot breaths, then clenched around Dean's cock, squeezing him tight. "Fuck... you're so damned hard... think I'm gonna feel this tomorrow."

"I'm hard?" Dean said, giving Sam's firm cock a squeeze. He began a slight in and out motion, stretching Sam, getting him use to him. "God you're so tight," Dean groaned. He stroked Sam in time to his own thrusts as they quickly found their rhythm. The bed springs creaked with each bounce. Pulling Sam backward, he began to thrust a little harder, arching up into him, ignoring the complaints his hip made, letting himself get lost in the pleasure of Sam laying on top of him. "Ngh, Sam, so perfect," Dean gasped, his hand finding its way to one of Sam's nipples.

His legs were draped over and outside of Dean's and Sam pressed his feet into the mattress each time he lifted and lowered over Dean, biting his lower lip when Dean thrust harder and had Sam seeing white behind his eyelids. Groaning softly, he followed Dean's lead, syncing to his rhythm, thrusting into his fist and pushing back against his cock. "Love when your hands are all over me," he muttered. "Love that you touch me even after you're inside. So good... so good, Dean." The brush of Dean's cock against his prostate had Sam moaning again. He started to move faster with Dean. "Yeah... oh fuck yeah..." The harder they fucked, the louder the mattress creaked. "Don't stop... never stop," he pleaded, heat building and tightening low in his stomach, making him ride faster, making him want more, whisper more words of love and need.

"Love touching you," Dean grunted as he slid his hand over to Sam's other nipple, loving the sound of Sam's breath as it hitched. Dean gave Sam everything he could, thrusting harder and harder into his lover. The mattress squeaked and groaned in response every time he lifted up and Sam met him, and every time he pulled out as Sam thrust into his hand. "Love you," Dean whispered as he felt his balls tighten. His lover's name was ripped from his throat as he felt his cum fill Sam, pumping all the while, hitting Sam's prostate with every stroke. 

"Ngh..." Sam reached behind him and gripped Dean's shoulder as his entire body shuddered with pure pleasure. It only took two more strokes of Dean's fist and a half-shouted cry tore from the back of his throat at the intensity of his orgasm. Thick ropes of hot cum sprayed from his cock, coating Dean's hand and Sam's stomach. Careful not to make any more sounds, Sam continued to ride Dean's cock, clenching and unclenching, milking him just like Dean was doing to him. "Ahhh..." Sam let out a sigh of relief as the pressure eased. Turning to the side, he brushed his mouth against Dean's. "You know... there are some benefits to abstention, voluntary or... involuntarily, he said, still taking labored breaths.  
"Bullshit. It's always good with you," Dean said, capturing his mouth and sliding his tongue inside, his hips slowing and finally stilling. After thoroughly kissing Sam he paused for a breath. "Feels so good. Us. Together. Finally."

Running his hand through the cum on Sam's stomach, he gave a soft sound of pleasure. Shifting, the mattress creaked again. "Mmm, I think maybe it's time for a new bed, maybe a full blown king-size. He kissed Sam's neck. "You make me happy. You and the imp. Happy as hell."

Leaning back and resting his head on Dean's shoulder, Sam smiled. "I always dreamed of getting away. Of finding peace for Em and me. I don't think I dreamed of happiness, but if I did... my dream was a pale imitation of what you've given me. Us. Sometimes I feel guilty. I wonder if I rushed you, or if you felt sorry for us or... a hundred other things. And then I see the look in your eyes and know this is real. That it's okay to make plans into the future. That it's okay to believe." He captured Dean's hand and held it as he blew out a hot breath. "In case I'm not being clear, Mr. Winchester. This ring you gave me isn't coming off my finger. Not ever." Turning his head, he kissed Dean's jaw. "I love you."

Dean chuckled softly. "Just gonna make me say it, aren't you? Love you too. Love the Imp. You two have turned my life upside down, but I think my life was always kinda upside down, so maybe what you did is make it right, y'know? And for the record, I never 'felt sorry' for you. I got being on the road and it being hard times. Me and my dad, we had those. I was just doing, y'know, what anybody oughtta do. Help out a dad and his kid especially when you got weather like that night, weather that can freeze someone to death. And no, you didn't rush me. I didn't want you to leave or I wouldn't have asked you to stay. I figured if things didn't work out you could always leave later. But I like exactly how things have worked out." Turning his head he waited until Sam turned to him and he brushed his lips over Sam's. "Like it a lot."

"Good. Because I'm not going anywhere." He kissed Dean again and then slowly got up, finally separating their bodies. Grabbing the towel they kept on the nightstand, he cleaned himself and Dean up a little. "We should try this again in the shower. Just to make sure the curse is really broken," he said, pulling Dean out of bed and immediately wrapping his arm around Dean's waist. "Then, I dunno, we could try against the wall, or on the floor." Brushing his mouth over Dean's as they slowly walked toward the bathroom, he kept whispering about where and how they could have sex.

As he reached into the shower and turned the faucet on, he started to chuckle. "Dean, way my mind's been working lately... you don't think I'm cursed with something like nymphomania?"

Dean grinned. "Nah, I'd just say I'm rubbing off on you." He pressed up against Sam's ass. "I got a whole list of ways and places we could have sex. And now that I know you're interested in phone sex...mmmm."

Groaning, Sam enjoyed the press of Dean's body against his own, before stepping inside the shower. "Just have to have it planned right. Maybe I'll phone from upstairs, and you'll be downstairs, and when it gets real bad... we can meet on the stairs." Just imagining it had his cock hardening. Turning around, he pulled Dean up against him and started kissing the hell out of him. His mouth, his throat, his chest... every inch of him as he worked his way down. They'd had the best Christmas, and now they were gonna have the best damned Valentines too.


	3. Chapter 3

If Dean had his way, he'd sleep until noon, especially since he and Sam didn't finally get to sleep until something like four in the morning. He smiled to himself. It was worth every last yawn he might have today. Flicking back the covers, he and pulled on some clothes and headed downstairs to the tempting smells of coffee. He always got up to see Emily off to school. Downstairs, he paused at his coat and pulled out the wrapped box he had for Em and wandered into the kitchen. 

"Morning," Dean said, setting the box down in front of Emily, beside her plate, and then accepting the fresh mug of coffee Sam handed him. 

"Morning," she said, taking the box and shaking it. "Daddy made me heart shaped pancakes. I told him to make yours like that too."

Sam had a sparkle in his eyes as he brought Dean's plate filled with small pancake hearts, placing it in front of Dean, then setting a plate of normal, large and fluffy pancaked down in front of himself. "Enjoy your little bitty hearts," he teased, knowing Dean would snag one of his larger pancakes by the time they finished their meal. Before he sat down, Sam brought his own small wrapped gift and placed it next to Dean. Emily then slipped off her chair and ran to the other room, returning with two cards. "For daddy, and..." she held one out to Dean. "For popsy!"

Dean took the card Emily handed him and saw 'Popsee' written on the card and gave Sam a look. Apparently Emily had decided on what to call him. He opened up the card and narrowly missed getting red glitter on his pancakes. "To the best popsee in the world," Dean read. "Thank you Em," he said, giving her a hug.  
After Sam read his card, which pretty much said the same thing with 'da-de' substituted for 'popsee,' Dean opened the box Sam had put on the table. He pulled out a keychain with a picture frame sort of thing on it. "Thanks, Sammy! We'll have to get a picture to put in the frame," Dean said, looking at it, trying to figure out how a picture would slide in. 

"We put pictures in." Pushing her plate to the side, Emily kneeled on her chair and leaned across the table to reach for the key chain. "Pictures of your four babies."

"Em, sit properly." Course his daughter had to press the button on the key chain before she did what he told her. "Hope you like it. You can always leave it on your desk," Sam offered, knowing the key chain was a lot more delicate than the one that Dean carried around now.

"My four babies?" Dean asked. "It's one of them digital things. Awesome!" He looked as the pictures changed. There was a picture of Sam, Emily, Emily and Rumsfeld, and Sam, Emily and the Impala. Dean grinned. "Thanks you two. This is cool. I love it Sam, Em. Open your box, Em," Dean said, and poured syrup on his pancakes. "And Sammy, show Em what I got you," he added with a grin.

"You said you were getting daddy mechanics lessons," she said, already opening her present.

Choking on laughter, Sam met Dean's guilty eyes. He knew Dean had probably been making fun or joking. 

"Yay! It's a necklace, look Daddy." Holding it up for only a second, she turned around.   
Sam took the heart locket from her and put it on her. "Looks like we'll need more pictures."

She was shaking her head 'yes,' and turned and smiled at Dean as he let him have a look.

Giving her a moment, Sam put his hand in front of her. "Dean got me this ring. Next weekend, we're gonna need a flower girl..."  
Her long, indrawn breath was so loud that Rumsfeld ran into the dining room see what was happening.

"I think that's a 'yes,' Dean." Grinning, Sam squeezed Emily's hand. "When you're breathing again, you better eat or you'll be late to class. And you... I need to give you an adjustment after... after last night. I have today off so we'll get back into our routine." Course if Dean had time and there were no interruptions, Sam would give Dean a 'happy ending.'

Dean choked back his own laughter. He had told Sam come the fall they could get married. He figured Sam would want to do the whole, 'make sure everything was perfect,' go pick out matching rings, rent tuxedos or whatever, and he hadn't wanted to make Sam feel rushed about anything. Obviously, Sam had already made up his mind which, really, was fine with Dean. He wouldn't have to listen to endless conversations from either Sam or Emily about doing this or doing that for the wedding. Course he wasn't sure if everything could be done that fast, but then, he realized people who eloped did it. 

"I'm glad she approves. Might have been awkward, otherwise," Dean said, giving the young girl a wink. She suddenly dashed around Sam's chair and was in Dean's arms. He hugged her tightly. "That's it, you're stuck with me now," he whispered in her ear, before kissing her hair. "Hope that's okay."

"Like gum?" She shook her head happily.  
Sam did his best to blink away the tears that stung his eyes. Emily was a child full of love and in all the years they'd been with Dex, he'd only seen her throw herself into Dex's arms once. That one unappreciated time had been it, and she'd never tried again. Seeing the way Dean whole heartedly hugged her back, his chest constricted. "Like freakin' crazy glue," he added, his voice a little thick. The instant Em turned to look at him, he smiled. "'Happy tears.'"

Accepting his word, she ran to the living room where Rumsfeld had returned once he saw nothing was wrong.

"Em, your breakfast!"

"I have to tell Rummy," she yelled back.

Turning back from watching her, Sam leaned toward Dean and stole a kiss. "You want my pancakes?" Without waiting for an answer, he quickly shared the larger full sized pancakes, still feeling a little emotional.

Dean accepted the quick kiss and smiled at him as he put a big pancake on the plate, covering the hearts. "It be okay with you if I get paperwork set up that says she's my kid too?" Dean asked, not a hundred percent certain how Sam would feel about that, especially since Dex had used the fact Sam had no legal claim on Emily against Sam. "Or maybe I can just get something that says I'm her guardian in the event you aren't available and something legal has to be decided. You don't have to answer now. Just think about it. I'm not sure if you ended up in the hospital or something, if they could take Emily away." Dean put some butter and more syrup on the pancakes. "And, do you wanna get matching wedding rings? We could go out and look today if you want." 

Maybe he shouldn't have been, but Sam was surprised by Dean's request. It wasn't a responsibility he'd expect anyone to take on in a matter of weeks. Then again, thinking on how close those two were already, and how sure Sam was that Dean loved her just as surely as if she'd been his daughter, that he'd protect her to his last breath, and that he'd never use her against Sam, he gave a smile. "If it's legal, I don't have a problem with it. Last time I looked into it, only one of a same sex couple could adopt. Might also be different with her being my 'biological' daughter, maybe she can be adopted by you. And if not, we'll do whatever is the closest next best thing." He waited for Dean to look at him and was suddenly sure that Dean had been worried about asking his question. "I can't think of anyone I'd like to share parenthood with more than you Dean. As for wedding rings..." he chuckled at the thought that Dean was really the romantic despite his attempts to hide that side of himself. "I like this one. How about we get you one that matches?"

"Well, that's a crock," Dean said. "That I can't adopt her I mean. I guess since same sex marriage isn't even legal in most states, also a crock, it shouldn't be a surprise." Dean began eating his pancakes. "You sure about the ring?" he said around a mouthful. After swallowing he added, "I mean, that was just supposed to be a promise ring. I'm not even sure it's wide enough to be engraved." He added hurriedly, feeling a slight flush creep up his cheeks. "You know, I mean if you wanted something engraved in it." Twisting away from Sam he saw Emily was still talking to the dog. "Em, you can finish telling Rummy everything after school. Get in here and eat. You are not going to school hungry."  
Sam gave Dean a look and smiled, but didn't answer. When he got back from dropping Emily off, they could decide about the rings.

Muttering over her shoulder to the dog, Em reached the table and sat down and started to eat. Somehow, in between mouthfuls she managed to describe the dress she was going to wear and mentioned there had to be a pillow to put the rings on and that it was going to be a magical wedding, and that the Impala was invited too. Neither of the two grown men were able to get a word in edgewise after that, but neither seemed to mind. Not even a little.

* * * 

After getting through Dean's physical therapy, they'd gone out and bought silver rings because Dean preferred to wear silver. The rings would be picked up in a few days as they needed to stay at the store to be inscribed. The jeweler gave Dean a strange look when he insisted on a pentagram in each, and then had a mobius, the symbol for eternity, inscribed with 'S' and 'D' inside of the loops.  
"Theater, rose, marriage proposal, ring shopping and... gun shooting lessons," Sam made a funny face at the end of his summary, "This is _some_ date, Dean." He watched carefully as Dean loaded the pistol, knowing the hunter took these things seriously. He knew Dean wanted Sam to be able to protect himself and Emily from the things out there. Sam had started to learn about the supernatural, but apparently now he was going to be trained to fight and shoot. Though he did laugh a little about it, the truth was he agreed with Dean. He needed to know this stuff. He was even a little excited about learning this stuff, though he was sure that someday he'd regret not having done it a lot sooner.

"Sex. You forgot the sex part. After getting cock-blocked for a week, that deserves being noted," Dean said, handing the gun over to Sam after putting the safety on. He watched Sam double check the magazine and slide it back in, put a bullet in the chamber and lift the gun. Dean adjusted Sam's stance. "You'll be more likely to hit the target if you hold your breath when you pull the trigger." 

Motioning at the beer bottles set up on different things at varying distances, Dean gave a nod. "Go ahead. Take your time to take the shot. This isn't a race. Just focus."

Holding his stance, with his arm held high, Sam kept a hard grip like Dean had told him and aimed at the easiest target, a set of three bottles sitting close together. Sucking his breath in, Sam pulled the trigger with a smooth motion, his mouth curving into a smile when he found that not only had the recoil not made him jerk too much, but he'd hit the bottles. The sound of shattering glass was satisfying. At Dean's nod, he aimed at a harder target, held his breath, shot and missed. Correcting his aim, he held the grip hard again and pulled the trigger.

Dean was pleased with Sam's enthusiasm at wanting to learn about the supernatural and wanting to learn how to shoot. He hadn't yet broached the subject, but he wanted to start teaching Emily about guns. For all the weapons around the place, he felt it was important that she know how to use them and understand how dangerous they could be and respect what they could do. He didn't want her getting curious and decide to find out for herself. With Sam being hyper-concerned about Emily turning to violence to resolve issues, he wasn't sure how Sam would take his suggestion.   
When Sam missed the target again, Dean said, "You don't need to have a death grip on it so your knuckles are white, Sam. Just hold it firmly. This one doesn't have a big kick. Too hard a grip can make you just as inaccurate." He saw Sam loosen his hold a little and try yet again. This time he clipped the target. "Dude, you're a natural at this. Go for the one on the tire." 

"Stop watching my knuckles." Sam's brow furrowed as he concentrated and took aim. When the bottle shattered, a broad grin spread across his face revealing his dimples. "Natural, I like that."

Dean grinned. "I ever tell you I think dimples are hot?" 

"Dean, if you call me _Dimples_ , I'm calling you _Freckles_ ," he warned, figuring that was coming next. "But you can tell me how hot they are all you want." After he emptied the magazine, he walked over and grabbed the next one under Dean's watchful eyes. Loading the gun, he slipped the safety on and then leaned over and kissed Dean. "Figured since you're watching like a hawk, I better do this right. Another round?"

"What freckles?" Dean protested, knowing good and well what freckles but he always vehemently denied they existed. Freckles just weren't...manly. "Fine, I'll just stick with 'Sammy.' Dean gladly welcomed the kiss. "You put in the magazine, but you didn't load a round into the chamber. If the safety wasn't on and you pulled the trigger, you wouldn't get anything coming out of that gun and that could be _inconvenient_ in certain circumstances. Yeah, go another round. Lots of bottles out there yet just begging to get nailed." Dean ran his hand down the curve of Sam's lower back and over his ass cheeks, letting Sam know there was something else he wouldn't mind 'nailing.'  
Smiling at the touch, Sam forced himself to keep his mind on what he was practicing and not on what he'd rather they were practicing together. He moved a little faster now, pulling the trigger without waiting so long after aiming. It started to feel more natural and all the times Dean had talked about the gun being an extension of your arm started to make sense. It wasn't like absolute precision was necessary most of the time, he'd said, because you selected the larger areas on a real target. At least for starters.

Sometimes Dean gave him tips or moved behind him to correct his stance. Mostly, he talked casually about the hunts he'd been on. Sam loved hearing the stories even if he sometimes wondered whether Dean exaggerated for dramatic effect. When he'd gone through a couple more magazines, Dean grabbed his own weapon and after he re-set the bottles, they shot in tandem. "One day, we'll have a real competition, points and all," Sam predicted. He found that now he associated guns with Dean, he no longer had the visceral reaction to them that he used to. It wasn't the gun that was bad, it all depended on who was doing the packing and their reasons.

"I never pegged you as the competitive type," Dean said with a smirk. "And now I have a tough question for you. When do you think Emily will be old enough to learn how to handle a gun? I think it's real important she respects what a gun can do and doesn't just think of them as what she might see on TV. I fired my first gun when I was five, but my sitch was different. My dad was an active hunter then." Dean looked at Sam expectantly.

Sam felt the weight of Dean's stare but didn't look back at him, narrowing his eyes and then squeezing the trigger. After the bottle shattered, he slowly turned toward Dean. "What do you mean by 'handle?""  
"Target practice. Clean them. Learn about them. Learn how to load rounds like salt rounds, learn how bullets are made. She's too young to be handling molten silver, but she can watch from a safe distance. You gotta understand, I'm wanting her to learn these things so she never picks up a gun in anger, so she understands what guns _should_ be used for. For protection only. She's curious about everything, and now that you're learning to shoot, it's only going to be a matter of time before she wants to, too. I wanna make sure you and me, we're on the same page. Same thing about, well, monsters being real. She'll only buy the 'researching for scientists' or whatever for so long. As much as I'd like her to keep her innocence about monsters being real...it's just a matter of time before she puts two and two together." 

"She's... she's _only six_ , Dean. She believes in Santa and the tooth fairy. I'm not ready to take that away from her, not yet." Flicking the safety on, Sam set the gun down on the hood of one of the junkyard cars. "I can't," he pleaded with his eyes for Dean's understanding. "The guns... She knows not to touch them. Believe me, I've drilled it into her. You haven't seen her go near one, have you?" He took a deep breath. "Maybe... I dunno, maybe in a year or two she can start with a bb gun or something. For right now, no touching, ever... I think that's the way to go."

Dean stepped up to Sam and encircled his waist with his arms. "That's fine, I don't want to take it away from her either. She doesn't need the nightmares I had when I was her age. I'm thinking about the time she's getting too old for Santa Claus is when she'll start asking about the other stuff too. But she's a bright kid and I don't want to lie to her when she does start to ask. As for the guns, abso-fucking-lutely no bb-guns. BB guns, those are basically harmless. I don't want her to ever take guns that lightly." Maybe he was over-reacting a little on the bb guns, but he remembered the way his father was adamant that if Dean was going to shoot, he was going to shoot a real gun, not a 'toy.' He planted a light kiss on Sam's lips. "Okay, how about when she's nine? That way when she asks, we can tell her she's not old enough yet, but that we will teach her. She has to keep her grades up and all of that too, so it's a reward and not taken lightly. That assumes she's mature enough. If she doesn't have any interest in guns, I still want her to learn to shoot when she's older, before all her teen hormones kick in. You okay with that?" Dean asked gently. 

"When she starts asking about _things_ , absolutely." Sam leaned into Dean, not really wanting to think about Emily growing up so quickly but knowing he had to. "I'd never ask you to lie to her, not when she's asking seriously. She's dealt with a lot of broken promises and lies, but not from me, and not from you," he said firmly. Biting his lower lip, he thought on the rest. "If she's mature enough... yeah, okay, we can do that. With lots of talks first, you know, about ..." he sighed. "I guess we'll get there when we get there." Meeting Dean's eyes, he searched them. "I do want her to grow up strong and able to protect herself, if I'm not here. Or now, if you aren't," he added, with a small smile.  
"And I know you're worried she'll act out because of Dex," he said with a solemn nod, acknowledging he felt Sam was right to be concerned. "We'll take it a step at a time, but I just have a feeling with you starting to shoot, it's going to get her to thinking. She's already eyed the line of phones in the kitchen and asked me a few questions about them." Dean chuckled at the memory of her too perceptive questions wondering if Dean was really a secret agent working for the government. "Well, I can fib a little about the monsters right now. Like if she asks if they're real, I figure I can tell her there is all sorts of legend and lore about them, just like there is about Santa Claus and stuff. You know if at all possible I always want to give you first say about everything when it comes to her, 'specially about stuff like this. I don't wanna piss you off." He looked out at the ground covered with shards of glass. "Yep, not with the way you're shaping up as a shooter."

"Now I'm scary, huh?" Sam nodded at the other stuff in agreement. "We'll make it work. All of it. I know we will." He eyed the glass on the ground and was a little proud of himself because he knew that though Dean could be kind, this wasn't the kind of thing he'd give compliments on if they weren't deserved. "Dean I decided what I want to do with that check, the life insurance." He sucked his lower lip between his teeth for a moment. "I'm gonna put most of it in an account for Emily's college and, well I'm hoping there's not gonna be a whole lot of emotional scars, but if there are and she needs help, it'll be there to pay for that too." Unconsciously, he squeezed Dean's arm. "Part of it, I'm giving to a charity that helps families get away from abusive family members. And ah, I thought we could use some to fix this place up a little. You said the roof and pipes are at the end of the road, let's get that taken care of and, I dunno, I thought pink would be a good way to go for your new office. Some fluffy pink velvet chairs and..."  
Dean was pleased that Sam was willing to keep the money for Emily. Lord knew he and Sam wouldn't be able to pay for college. He was nodding in agreement to what Sam said he wanted to do with the money. "Yeah, that sounds.... _what?_ " He thumped Sam in the arm. "Not funny. Not even a little bit." He gave Sam a glare. "Not even if you get Emily to beg me to let you do it. I might be wrapped around her little finger, but there are limits." He saw the twinkle in Sam's eyes and Sam was grinning broadly at him. "You are a shit, Dimples," he said, then pulled Sam into a kiss aimed at melting titanium.

Any complaints Sam had about the damned nick name died on his lips the moment Dean's lips descended over his own. The way Dean's tongue moved in and out of his mouth, mapping every corner and leaving Sam breathless, it had Sam wanting more. Needing more. Breaking the kiss, he looked earnestly into Dean's eyes. "End of lesson. I think it's you and me time. Now," he said," his voice husky and suggestive as he nodded toward the house. 

"Mmm, am I going to get another happy ending?" Dean asked with a grin, squeezing Sam's ass and he ground his hardening cock up against Sam's groin.

Sam's eyes closed for a moment as he bit his lower lip and gave a soft moan. "Yeah... I'm pretty sure that's in the cards. Happy endings. Plural." Opening his eyes, he gave Dean a smile that held a lot of promise. Reluctantly, they parted and Dean grabbed the weapons. Sam walked behind him and deliberately bumped into him as they reached the porch steps, goosing him lightly and laughing at Dean's reaction that included grabbing his arm and dragging him inside. Sam locked the door as Dean went to put the guns away. They would clean them that evening.   
By the time Dean got back, they'd both already taken their jackets off.   
"So guns get you hot, huh?" Sam asked, walking toward Dean.

"Depends who's doing the shooting," Dean said, watching Sam's every graceful step. As soon as he was within reach, Dean pulled him into his arms and began walking backward, leading Sam toward the stairs. "What about you? You like any particular one of my guns? Any of them turn you on and get you all wound up?"

"Yeah, there's one in particular." Sam spoke with his mouth only inches away from Dean's. "The one you're packing," he slid his thigh between Dean's legs so there wouldn't be any mistake what he was talking about. "I think you're locked and loaded," his warm breaths fanned Dean's face. "And if you wind me up even a little more, we're not making it up the stairs." Gripping the banister with one hand, Sam leaned in and claimed Dean's mouth with his own, moaning with need already.

Dean groaned at the pressure Sam put on his dick. "Cocked and loaded," Dean murmured in agreement. He kissed Sam back, but Sam was definitely taking the lead in the kiss. He couldn't help but pull Sam closer. When they finally broke for breath, Dean looked into Sam's lust-filled hazel eyes. "Long way up those stairs. Why don't I take you in the other room for a little of my _special_ therapy?"

"Ah... can't. Have stuff all over," he kissed Dean again. "Was moving things around." Reversing their positions, Sam started to pull Dean up the stairs. He felt Dean's body brush against his and felt fire race through his veins. "Dean... need you." He tugged a little too hard and fell, dragging Dean down over him. Laughing as he shifted his body so that it was a little more comfortable, he ran his hand down Dean's back, molding him closer. "I don't think upstairs-downstairs phone sex will work for us. You're too hot and I'm too impatient." Kissing along Dean's jaw, he whispered, "Lemme handle your gun."

 _Lemme handle your gun..._ That just sounded so fucking hot and dirty to Dean, he groaned as his cock swelled and pressed against the material of his jeans. The cellphone in his pocket suddenly went off. With a huff of annoyance he pulled it out, checked to make certain it wasn't the school, and then looked down at the concerned visage of his lover.   
"Not Emily," Dean announced. With that, he hit the ignore button and turned enough to toss it through the banister rails onto the couch, then leveled his gaze on Sam. "No way are we gonna start _that_ up again. I got some shooting lessons to finish. So why don't you take my gun out of its holster and check the muzzle." 

Letting out the breath he'd been holding, Sam unzipped Dean's pants and pushing his hand inside, squeezed his rock hard cock and instinctively lifted his own hips upwards. "Safety's off." Pulling Dean down with his free hand, Sam kissed, and squeezed and stroked his lover, fanning the flames of their desire and taking them to another level. Valentine's Day had broken their bad luck streak and he was just as determined as Dean to make sure it never returned.

 

THE END


End file.
